#shitpoem
Three knives in the kitchen.
The sharpest used,
sharp red stains.
Three blister pack of pills.
All of them empty,
distorted package.
Three strands of rope.
The middle one tied,
blood-tainted noose.
Three bleeding wounds,
three empty painkiller packs,
three-feet-long rope.
Three to the one,
three minutes have begun,
the young girl stays there.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
Time.
Akin to a clear stream,
silently flows;
never to look back.
Love.
Like a sword,
cuts clean;
dolefully.
Anger.
Like an earthquake,
massively destructive;
agonizingly.
Sorrow.
Like a chasm,
never to be fathomed;
endlessly.
Jealousy.
Like a fire,
burning inside;
continuously.
Regret.
Like a knife,
stabbing oneself;
repeatedly.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:34 PM UTC