Pathetic strawberry gashes stain her wrists red
She sits in her room, wallowing in her misery
Crying her tears of confusion and failure
Trapped within herself, she searches for a way out
Days are nothing but endless turmoil and rage
And her nights are soaked in crimson
There's no healing her wounds,
They shall be torn open forever, mocking her wordlessly
No one could ever understand the sorrow that each miserable line contains
Hiding them from the world has become her sixth sense
For they might as well think of her as a freak
So she'll take the blade and tear her skin apart
Crying as the blood lazily runs down her unsteady arm
Pathetic strawberry gashes will *always* stain her wrists red...
Author notes
i was bored, and all this came to me. egh, it's not that great. let me know what you think....
Written May 24th, 2006
A contest entry
- Of a bruised heart by FrostBite.
400 points, ended July 11, 2006, 26 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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CFO
Ahh the blade. A tool designed to inflict harm upon the innocent. I find it sadly ironic that such a device would be wielded against its possessor, like some dark pun. I thank you for your poem Razor Blade Beauty, and pray that the scars will heal, even the ones unseen. For love so harms -DAN- -
Thanks for commenting. Yes this pretty much comes from my soul. i am a cutter as you can tell, and it's tearing me up, so yea. thanks again!
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Excellent
This seems to have come from somewhere within. A reflection not necessarily from every facet of life, but one moment or feeling. You let it flow through images and emotions, maybe letting it come more from inside than the mind. -
Well now that I've read this I might as well comment it..I don't know what to say. And you know how you asked me on the phone. "How come you read other peoples dark poems and comment them and love them, but not mine." I like them and comment them because I DON'T know them. Didn't think of it that way did ya?
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