There are a lot of parts to this poem that also seem mediocre and a few phrases... I'm not sure if they're too cliche.
(Ohhh... titles. :/ )
My wrist is contained my the tight grip of a lonley soul.
Love makes me bleed.
Rather, the lack there of. (<- cliche?)
Their ignorance carved my body,
An Object.
A disturbing piece of art designed to make others
cry.
To make others think, feel lucky.
Maybe even entertain?
My heart - diseased by the tainted world.
Tainted with what?
Reality?
Swollen eyes,
A beating fist,
Decorating my face with the acceptance there never was.
Love that can never be.
Naked.
Scared.
Look at nothing but the ground.
Don't look up.
What might you see?
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