deepundergroundpoetry.com
Looking good man!
Can God punish me for that?
Can HE read between the lines I draw?
Can HE hear what I truly want to say?
There are whispers behind my words,
Spoken by lips smudged in red.
They are carved into me,
They are barely audible.
If I try and wipe it from my skin,
The cut will only grow deeper.
He will smile,
HE won’t forgive.
Can everyone else see it?
Burning on my flesh and eating at my tongue.
It runs down my cheek,
It stains all of my clothing.
They told me I could be forgiven,
I just had to be honest.
But honestly I can’t remember,
When the bleeding started and stopped.
When every word got caught on crooked teeth,
And every whisper was lost to smudged lips.
I hope to one day get them past the fear,
And hold them to my heaving chest.
Please.
Let me call him pretty,
And mean it.
Can HE read between the lines I draw?
Can HE hear what I truly want to say?
There are whispers behind my words,
Spoken by lips smudged in red.
They are carved into me,
They are barely audible.
If I try and wipe it from my skin,
The cut will only grow deeper.
He will smile,
HE won’t forgive.
Can everyone else see it?
Burning on my flesh and eating at my tongue.
It runs down my cheek,
It stains all of my clothing.
They told me I could be forgiven,
I just had to be honest.
But honestly I can’t remember,
When the bleeding started and stopped.
When every word got caught on crooked teeth,
And every whisper was lost to smudged lips.
I hope to one day get them past the fear,
And hold them to my heaving chest.
Please.
Let me call him pretty,
And mean it.
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