TWLOHAShe sat in her room,TWLOHA6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The cold wooden floor touching her jeans.
She traced her wrist,
The place that was so tempting,
Her demons whispered to her,
She picks up a near by maker,
Like the blood she sheds,
And on her wrist she writes,
With sloppy, unstable handwriting,
"To Write Love On Her Arms"
But she doesn't stop inking her arm,
The pain has yet to leave,
She writes, still the handwriting is shaky,
'Once more' She thinks,
And in large, cursive letters,
She caps the maker and begins to cry,
She had never been so proud of herself.