Her world without love
She longs for a touch
That is not her own
Not her own hands
Or the blade she keeps by her bedside
Staring at her
Waiting for her to fail again
Embarrassing isn't it
To keep something so close
Yet it draws her blood
And leaves scars no one will ever love
She longs for a touch
That will never come
Only the touch
Of the blade she wishes she could throw away
And the hands
Full of hatred nobody can change
Copyright © Natalie Weschler | Year Posted 2025
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