My mouth tasted like blood. No. My my mouth was flooded with blood. I lay on my back struggling to spit it out, it just kept coming. I was drowning in my own blood. I didn't feel anything but my vision suggested i was convulsing. Pins and needles everywhere. Im completely numb and have no control over my body. My cries for help are gurgled and useless. Its hot. But the floor against my back is ice cold. People stand around me. They watch. They are silent as they judge my every detail in my last moments. My eyes catch yours as i choke on my last breath.
YOU ARE READING
It's poems and shit
PoetryThis book is mostly shit but I keep it posted because it's a accurate representation of my progression and changes in my writing over time
