If Wrists Could Speak

Fear loathe pity us Not We scars so judiciously brought into existence by silent shreds of emotion: Jagged sighs, wretched smiles, come journey Dysfunction. We beg your brave outsiders' senses to peer Are you Perplexed by soft whispers that emanate Clear from each line? Does our breadth of a slice of depth of vice the stripping of seams to bloodlines within, defy perfect dreams of sweet nectar skin? Dare you touch these velvet ropes muddied from cold steel hue now dry in caked puddles of lost hopes, once winding thick through? Fear loathe pity us Not We scars so judiciously sought into existence by silent shreds of promise: Sound larks of empathy's song, Heed the marks of our concern, liquid and long... We merely yearn to be forgotten in realms of healing Hope begotten.