As i sit on my bed.
A knife in my hand.
Somewhere on the floor,
The blood will land.
Each slit i make,
Takes my mind away,
From each piece of me,
That you had to take.
The scars on my wrist,
Are all from you.
AS i tightened my fist,
Another scar is made.
The pain will never fade.
All this pain you made.
I do this all with a razor blade.
I hold the blade in my hand,
I put it on my wrist,
And make a long slit.
On the floor the blood lands.
As I start to feel weak,
I see a person in front of me.
Your warm hand on my cheek.
After you see me limp body,
You realize what you had done.
You know my death is your fault.
And you thought it was fun.
Author notes
Written December 28th, 2004
A contest entry
- cutters by untammed soul.
300 points, ended February 17, 2005, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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Great write sad but awsome i really enjoyed this a lot
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