Doc Wilde (You Are Very Special)

Poem By Mary Wismer

I Bleed away my problems. I scratch them all away. My problems drip away from me and slither down the drain. My problems are dissolved in crimson. My scarlet poison makes them die. A piece of metal shatters them and through my veins the pieces fly. These scars upon my skin. Tell tales of secret pain. But come and listen to them. Of the truth Im not ashamed. My problems are hidden from you. I hide them oh so well. Whats wrong? i tell you nothing 'Cause you cant save me from this hell

Comments about Doc Wilde (You Are Very Special)

I don't know who you are, but you know it's illegal to claim credit for work you didn't create, right? You didn't write this poem.


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