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Enriched Plastic and under the knife.........for real

With a new dawn comes a new beginning.

Tears stream down my face, red as the bloody knife.

Boasting it's presents as if to laugh at it's victims.

As if to mock the dead.

As if to mock God and Hell.

 

To break silence is a crime.

I have committed so many terrible crimes.

So many have fallen at my feet.

So many have said no goodbyes to their families.

 

They never stop to thank God for being alive.

I got to them before they could even scream.

They were dead.

No life, no soul, no heart.

 

But the way they die.....

It always looks like suicide.

And I get away with murder.

While people think it was suicide.

 

Many say I am cold.

Black of heart.

Dead on the inside.

If I'm dead on the inside, how can I feel pain as YOU die?

 

How can I be real?

How can I be fake?

How can I not kill you?

 

...

 

A contest entry

Just understand it.

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Comments

  • Diatribes
    April 26, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Do you want to be my saviour ?
    You sound like my I Homicidal Messiah I ften imagine/fantisize/dream about.


  • xxRainbowDawnxx
    January 31, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    You put some kind of Italic lock or something on the end of the poem and on the rest of the page... Pretty neato though, like the way it slants I love how you can write under such a dark category. It is often peoples faults for sinning, but then those who condemn sinners have fun feasting on their negativity.