The cold icy blade, running across my skin, Sending chills down my spine. Crimson blood running down my wrist, Dripping down drop by drop to the sink below me. I feel calm, and in control. The devil inside me has taken my soul. The blade doing its job one time, two times, three and more. My vision goes blurry, the room goes dark, my heart pounds faster. I wake up the next day groggy, confused. People pounding on the bathroom door. My brain pounding in my head. I put on my best face, Because they cant know, They wont know. Ill find an excuse, for everything. And their world will be fine. No matter if mine is a living hell. they My friend write good poems
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 08:09:06 +0000
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