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dayna-halcombPoems
People say the truth is hard to swallow, But I just took a whole bottle of pills. I cut the tension on my wrists, Split the seams of my skin, Crossed the lines of my scars, And I'm drawing the line At this last line of red. My wrist is spewing profanities. My mind is a prison, they say. But my mind doesn't stop at the prison gates It wonders in every direction. And I've lost control. I find it in my razor. At the bottom of a bottle of pills I swallowed my control, And I found true things. This is the rapture. Someone is behind you. You're wrong and everyone knows. Don't turn the light out. That man has a gun. They are looking at you. ****** Mary ****** Mary ****** No, I took the pills.
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
My Anxiety Is Red, My Face Is Blue
People say the truth is hard to swallow, But I just took a whole bottle of pills. I cut the tension on my wrists, Split the seams of my skin, Crossed the lines of my scars, And I'm drawing the line At this last line of red. My wrist is spewing profanities. My mind is a prison, they say. But my mind doesn't stop at the prison gates It wonders in every direction. And I've lost control. I find it in my razor. At the bottom of a bottle of pills I swallowed my control, And I found true things. This is the rapture. Someone is behind you. You're wrong and everyone knows. Don't turn the light out. That man has a gun. They are looking at you. ****** Mary ****** Mary ****** No, I took the pills.
dayna-halcomb
Written by
dayna-halcomb
American
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
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