#WritcoPoemChallenge
If only wishes can come true,
I have one or two or maybe a few,
And they're all about you,

I wish you wouldn't hurt,
those people who came to blurt.
for all those things you have done,
which make us want to be gone.

The punch,
which made bumps.
A mark of primitive,
making us discipline to the bones.

the dark-violet slowly diminishing,
from our white skin scaling.
From the self-harm we made,
Using the steel sharp blade...

I wish we'll found peace
from within our hearts.
Killing us piece by piece,
on our body parts.