Cutting yourself with pieces of glass
Cuts on my hands and the mark on the my heart
I lie on my blood stain bed
My heart weeping out blood through my veins
I drank my tears for my scarful soul
I scared my heart with the blade of hope
My scared heart, ripped apart
Smoked my head with a hand full of weed
Torchured and humiliated by the world
Broken down on the ground
Eaten up by the Gods
Not even loved by the whores
again a good and perfect poem.. I mean that you are really very good poet and have command on it...so do more..this will good for you... your ideas and subject are interesting and impressive