A cut,
A word,
Breaks the delight.
Suicidal dreamers die,
In the quiet night.
Beaten, forgotten,
Body broken,
Soul rotten,
Such a shameful sight,
In the quiet night.
Words break a poet,
Yet it's their own creation,
One jumps under,
One above it,
Not resisting the temptation.
Maybe everyone was right,
In the quiet night.
Look everyone,
What a sight,
The fool tried to **** himself,
In the quiet night.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 9:55 AM UTC
A cut,
A word,
Breaks the delight.
Suicidal dreamers die,
In the quiet night.
Beaten, forgotten,
Body broken,
Soul rotten,
Such a shameful sight,
In the quiet night.
Words break a poet,
Yet it's their own creation,
One jumps under,
One above it,
Not resisting the temptation.
Maybe everyone was right,
In the quiet night.
Look everyone,
What a sight,
The fool tried to **** himself,
In the quiet night.
First longer poem in a while, kinda ****** but i need to write more anyway
Request permission to use this poem