the knife
lays there
mocking her; provoking her
beckoning her to come for just one more ride
one little cut won't hurt
her blood boils under her skin
as she longs to see the crimson red once more
to let it be the last thing in her memory of the cruel world
her impulse is to grab it, thrust it into her skin
to see the red burst out from where the shiny silver broke in,
but she has learned control
though she struggles with the urge to throw everything away
she has to be strong
and now is not the time to give in
so she simply leaves the knife to haunt another
suicidal victim.
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8 comments:
Oh, that's lovely blank. It's a lovely poem. *Cough* *Cough*
I like the name, but your suicide stories are starting to get to me. Why must you write such deppressing stories? I love your writing, but try writing happy stories. Thumbs up on the imagery!(even if its creepy)
I like the title...so is this stuff supposed to be autobiographical (scary) or imagination? I agree w/ Peanut, you should branch out to other subjects.
Your poems are really starting to scare me. You should try to write a happy poem and make your blog happier.
This poem is very creepy but the creepiness makes them cool.
This poem is very creepy but the creepiness makes them cool.
I know you wrote this a long time ago, but I was looking through your blog and I saw this.
Anyways, I don't think people should be complaining about how people write depressing poems. The world can be a depressing place. This kind of stuff happens, and we can't just tell ourselves that the world is perfect because it's not.
AHHHHHHHHHHH! TOOOOOOOOOOOO DEPRESINGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!
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