Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2015
Thoughts of ****** wrists
Time wasted for nothing
Tied lungs and necks hanging by strings
They call them cowards, as they walk into the unknown.
Life was hell..
but it heaven real?
So I cut a little deeper, knowing I'll never heal.
From words of hate and a life worth nothing.
But with every cut, I remind my self.. I'm already dead.
Anna Banana
Written by
Anna Banana  USA
(USA)   
388
     Guy Furniture
Please log in to view and add comments on poems