( A poem )
I sit on my bed,
Dragging it across my skin,
My mind angry,
My mind saying "why toss it?!",
Referring,
To the tossing of my only blade,
The blade with stains,
Stains of myself,
Water stains,
Tear stains,
Blood stains.
Laughed at,
By the ones who surround me.
"What did you use?" She asked,
"A pencil" I replied,
I stared into my lap,
She winced thinking about it.
He,
He yelled,
He cried,
He quivered,
He loved,
He told the truth,
The only one,
But,
Even he,
Could not stop it,
From happening again.
It stops,
Then starts again,
It will never end.
I continue to drag it,
Across the skin on my arm,
Leaving light marks at night,
But dark scars in the morning.
Given the pill,
Thought to be thrown away,
Kept,
To be taken,
But not yet,
It's too soon,
I'm waiting,
Waiting for the perfect day,
To make the last scars,
On these arms of mine,
And swallow the pill,
And to be gone,
Taken from the world,
Sent to him,
To be judged,
It all started,
With the first scars,
On my arms.
YOU ARE READING
Music Is My Life
PoetryThese are just some songs/poems that I write in my spare time! Also, now that I'm in a guitar class I will hopefully be putting a beat to it.. So please make any suggestions or comments!!~
