my poem #3

He used to be that boy,
that stared into her eyes.
The one guy that didn't
even care about the way that
she mis-treated herself.

He was that boy
that used to tell her
that he loved her, every hour of every day.
He was always making silly jokes,
trying to make her smile.

Until that day.
He felt empty,
He picked up the razor blade,
rolled up his sleeves and started to cut himself ,one by one.
Saying that every scar on his body counts for the things that he loves about herm

She kept on asking herself,
"Who am I?"
She was the one with the hurt,
the tears
and the hate.

She said:
"Who am I to think that I can actually make a difference?"

In a world full of
fake people,
fake smiles,
fake everything.
Maybe the world is just full of false hopes and dreams.

He wasn't living in the hopeless world,
he was busy creating a whole new different world for them together.
They say, love hurts,
but love wasn't the only thing hurting them.

Together they defeated death,
they gained trust in one another.

Their thoughts is no longer about,
the blades, the cuts, and what people think of them.
But of what is left of them,
and creating a whole new world together,
a world full of hope and dreams.
~L