My escape from mental pain,
My entrance to relief,
The cold metal against my hot skin,
Inching it's way along my thigh.
The drops of blood that trickle down in red streaks,
The salty tear that rolls down my cheek,
The slight pain that drags across with the blade,
Each stroke deeper than the last.
My eyes puff as my blood spills,
I choke on oxygen that tries to enter my dry mouth,
Breathing is now an option.
Razor blades are my way to express emotion,
Blood is my fear, love, and death,
Tears are my drugs,
But I will be the dealer that never runs out.
YOU ARE READING
My Book of Poems
PoetryOk, if you like poems, I may be able to please you. If I do not please you, then I am truly sorry. If you don't like poems, then please read my other books. While you read my other books, vote them if you enjoy them. I am required to make a goal in...
