as i go to the drawer to see if i could bleed some more i look at the pain i caused as i take that knife across my wrists. i cant stop untill im dead as i cant see cause i bashed my head against a wall or as i fall down some stairs to raise the hairs on the back of my neck or do i hear the click of a gun and i can;t run from the pain cause its too late i cut through my vains and end the pain of missery that nobody saw that was inside of me.
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poetry
Poetrythe poem to the girls isn't mine i found it but the rest are of my own
