It gets dark here sometimes,
Like the curtains have fallen on the last act,
seats empty and lights dim.

It gets dark here sometimes,
Like the last of a hundred candles
Has melted away to a mere puddle of wax.

It gets dark here sometimes,
Like the fog too heavy, blinding street lights
And late night walkers.

It gets dangerous here sometimes too,
Like standing in a violent protest march
As a kid from the 60's.

It gets dark and dangerous here,
I guess they call it 'Night'.

Fill this pen with blood from the sink,
Bleed between the lines, let it soak me in,
Let all my pain, happiness, thoughts,
Become one with the paper,
The ****** blotches represent toughest times,
And the world smiles at the fading happy lines,
This is how I create my form of art; my poetry,
Every word is entirely me.

The water washing over your currupt hands
will never, ever run clean, you're too far gone
you're too far gone, your eyes are black
no one can see you now, the cut isn't as deep as it seems
but, oh my, is it painful, unbearable, ineffable
it's time to swim away from this rip you're stuck in
break away, put the bottle down, spit the pills
and come waste away with me.

Pick our death, we'll go whichever way you want
as long as it's just you and me,
a train, a gun, a needle, water, a disease, old age
waste away, come waste away with me,
I know you're afraid to live, it's in your eyes
and, dear, I understand, but I'm scared too
of everything else, and I'm only here so you and I
are not alone, you can't do this on your own
I don't want you to. Come waste away with me.

She'll never cover up what we did with her dress,
We tried to tease her out of it, she wouldn't budge,
We pushed and she fell in puddles of mud,
Over and over again she fell, scraping paper knees,
Oh no, she'll never cover up what we did with her dress,
White lace was now blood and mud drenched,
That silly girl, she tried to run,
We caught her hand and pinned her against the trees,
Tree bark was added to the blood and mud mix on her lace,
She'll never cover up what we did with her dress,
Frightened and screaming, with our lips we stole her breath,
Moving down her slowly, such a pretty little figure,
We made her bleed, we made her squirm, we watched her bleed,
We tore that ugly ******* dress off her purple, bruising skin,
And ***** her in the woods.
Oh no, she'll never cover up what we did with her dress.

BLEE
         EE
              EE
                   EED!
Dig that ******* razor DEEPER into your wrists.
Practice what you preach, and show us you're not afraid.
Don't just scratch with a pin and claim to slash them.
Practice what you preach. Practice what you preach.