I remember the blood,
from an hour and a half ago
I dont know
who I am
when I look in the mirror, I say "Damn, who am I?"
Sweet razorblade,
let the blood cascade
I flex my wrist,
It hurts like hell,
why?
I cry
I love it,
I hate it,
Sweet razorblade,
let the blood cascade
man, I am deep in my shit,
I need to take a hit,
to forget
to have smoke fill my lungs,
and mist my mind,
to find
peace
Sweet razorblade,
let the blood cascade
Author notes
my wrist hurts
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
wow! very intense, thanks for the share..
-
Ah, I remember my depression years. Fear nothing but the fact that youre clueless of your identity. No will to live, and when the blood made sure I was still around, figuring who I was didnt come around so much nicer.
Anyways, very poetic, simplistic to a point but well read and an emotionally powered. Excellent job <3
-
i really like this,..cuz well,..cutting is like a drug, full of regrets but that never stops you,
"I love it,
I hate it," that is so understandable,
i love this poem
-
This is rich in emotion and a very sad write! It is well written and thanks for sharing!
Adding your comment:
