Bleeding dry my tears

Weeping for the sorrow felt within my soul,

unable to cry I slice my skin to feel something.

In each slash made to its own unique perfecting,

bears the shame beyond the pain in my eyes.

Brokenness unbecoming a heart so beautiful,

seen as ugliness by the ones who never see.

Closed in my face the doorway to hope,

locked out instead of finding a way.

What was once known by my life this fiction,

lied to just for the sake of saving face.

Naked in my room leaving out all who curse me,

with the blood pouring down my pain ceases to exist.

Soulless eyes without a heart to bare all shame,

recluse repressing what was meant to be felt.











Johnny Newell