So here's my latest poem.
Ch-ch-check it, mayne.



Unwounnd.
[April 2]
She’s become unwound and her guts are spilling on the floor
All you once thought you knew about her is twisted and becomes untrue
She writhes as you discover secrets and dig deeper into her past

She’s wallowing in her words
You’re drowning in her tears
We’re pushing her thoughts, passions, and feelings aside

Can’t you see she’s hurt?
Why won’t you take action?
As she’s slowly suffocating in her misery, you stand aside and just let nature take its course

You see, she feels as if no-one cares.
If they really wanted to know, they would ask.
She’s explained to those of you who’ve asked.

But you, those of you most important to her, don’t know.
You didn’t ask; you didn’t care;
She didn’t tell you.

But how could you know?
How could you understand?
How could you ever understand?

Your worlds don’t even begin to compare to her’s.
As she drowns in her sorrows and pretends she’s ok,
You remain unaware of her silent misery.

She continues to throb on the floor;
You continue to move on, obliviously;
And the only one left looking out for her can’t do anything.

Because she’s dead.