I can sit and I can cry. This blade on my wrist Doesn't help my mind. One cut, two cut, three cut, four I don't want to be here anymore. She doesn't love me. She never will Maybe I can have just one more pill. Five pills, six pills, seven eight nine I don't want to be alive You promised to never leave but you just left.
Tonight is a night of sorrow, a night of loneliness. Songs of death loom in a dark forest. Wolves vent their struggles. The beautiful one awakes. Wisps of death surrounds her pale form. A timeless dread fills me. Her inky black hair cascades over Frail ivory skin. her full crimson heart aches. Black tears streaming, streaming from her wrists. Tonight is a night of new life.
I never wanted it to be like this She knows no bliss... Because I can’t give it. Slit your wrist or run away quick. Somethings ****** in my head, I’m missing a bit more I can’t keep score But I’ll keep your core And ******* sore Not your body But her ardor...
I can give you no reward my darling.. Just this cheap fervor
Slit your wrists Cut your tears Close your fists Hide your fears
Melt your face Brand your hands Quit your race Give up your land
Tear your skin Rip out your hair Hack your shins Fight for your share
Break your bones ***** your teeth Kick the stones Smash your feet
Grind your flesh Mince your eyes Wish for your death Now you’re blind
End your life Forget your grief You can rest 6 feet underneath
My poetry seems to keep getting darker, but maybe my mind is too. I'm not depressed or suicidal, but recently my dreams have been revolving around suicide. "Slit your wrists, cut your tears" Was stuck in my head for a while, I kept repeating it to myself (even though you obviously can't cut a teardrop). Then I wrote this poem.