Putting the gun to my head just the pull of the trigger and bam I am dead but the thought of you stops me putting the gun down and grabbing the dagger I hold so dear putting it to my wrist thoughts of make me pull back again makes me stop. FUCK this shit I slide the dagger down my wrist letting blood run like rain down my hand painting the grand beneath me red. Then it goes black as I fall and hit the wall I hear the shuts seeing you and thinking with my last thoughts be happy now I am dead shed no mare tears tell no more lies because now its done now its over just sigh and walk on by.
A contest entry
- Depressed. by Nicotine Eyes.
300 points, ended July 10, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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i really like it hun!
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