I'm tired of living.
I'm tired of breathing.
My legs are shaking, because I'm so weak.
The blood trickles down my arm.
The blade falls from my hand without a sound.
The tears roll down my eyes as I fall to the ground.
The hard tile floor reaching up to meet me in one swift motion.
And it all goes black.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Thoughts
PoetryTiny poems that I came up with when I was bored. At least I think they are poems, hmm. If you want they could actually be book ideas but if you do turn it in a story either 1). Comment on the chapter your turning into a book or 2). Message me whic...
