Wicked GamesA Poem by Redraven
What a wicked game we play. I’ll pretend it’s fine but it reality I’m curling in a ball.
These thoughts of myself worth and hatred only disappear for so long. They are always at arms length, ready to be embraced at a moments noticed. The edges of my mind, the dark cave, always full with damaging thoughts. Once again they shall be known. © 2020 Redraven |
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Added on May 12, 2020 Last Updated on May 12, 2020 Tags: Damage, self worth, fool, bad thoughts Author
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