Member Poem

Sitting as the warm water hits my skin. I feel those places are used to love and hate burn. That sting reminds me that it’s real, it lets me know what I’m guilty of.

I want to sell my soul. Sell it to a demon or an angel alike, as long as I gain some worth in the process.

I’m too damaged for human trade.
Have too many things wrong with me for me to be of any worth.

What hasn’t killed me makes me weaker
Strength found in what harms us is a skill I do not have

So I’d rather be sold
Have the value of pennies,  but at least that means someone wants me.

Someone wants me.