I've got butterflies in my stomach
With wings made of glass
They're ripping at me and making me bleed, even though you can't see.
I've got this pain in my chest it makes it hard to keep breathing.
The doctor can't fix it, only you can save me.
I've got this voice in my head.
It tells me nasty things.
The pills don't make him sleep, they make him smile with glee...because it means he's right
I've got no voice its been drained out
Because no one hears
And my scilent screams are running out
Write to Live; Live to Read: Poetry
A gathering of poetic people who help each other grow in their poetic ablilites.
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