One slice across the wrist,
Can you hear the blood falling?
One slice for every time you've hit me,
A pool is growing ever bigger.
Your words still ring in my ears,
"You're not good enough,
Not only for me, but anyone,
You're useless, and no one loves you,
Why are you even still here?"
The welt on my face still stings,
And I still ask "why am I still here?"
Because I love you and I can't leave,
You're not so bad when your not angry.
But I can't give in, not this time,
Not again, not like I always have,
So one slice across the wrist,
Can you hear the blood falling?
One slice for every cruel word,
The pool is growing even bigger.
I wonder "Will you miss me?"
But I know the answer to that,
You'll finally ask yourself,
"Why isn't she still here?"
But only after I'm gone,
After you realize you miss me.
So one more slice across the wrist,
I can barely hear the blood falling,
One slice for every day I cried,
The pool grows even bigger,
Drip....
Drop....
Drip....
Drop....
You can no longer control me.
Author notes
This is not in any way, shape or form about me. It is completely fiction.
A contest entry
- Love is the slowest form of suicide... by Yours-To-Have.
500 points, ended March 22, 2007, 79 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
i love it! it's really deep and i can feel the pain this imaginary person feels....simply awesome my friend
-
THANK YOU FOR PUTTING IN THE AUTHOR'S BOX THAT THIS IS FICTION!!!!!! I love you just for that. When you keep say "the pool gets bigger" I was starting to get scared. But, in every way, shape, or form, this is a very realistic poem. Thank you for the entery and good luck.
Lots of Love,
**Amanda**
Adding your comment:
