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.
