My words they bleed,

With those words, I jot down sentences,

With that blood, I paint pictures.

 

They say it’s one love and one life,

But I have two people living in one body,

One for the day and one for the night.

 

These scars that I wear,

They are my parts,

For they tell my story without using words.

 

At the end of the day,

These scars make me who I am.

I am a writer, I am a poet.