I slit my wrist on my writing hand,
And the letters all poured out.
They spread across the page
Until no white is left.
Now what's that all about?
The letters poured and poured
And, I was almost dead.
I looked down upon my page
Content that it was read.
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 12:46 PM UTC
I slit my wrist on my writing hand,
And the letters all poured out.
They spread across the page
Until no white is left.
Now what's that all about?
The letters poured and poured
And, I was almost dead.
I looked down upon my page
Content that it was read.
Steve Collins.
27/8/10
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