My Poems

w/r/i/s/t

red stains

wrist ache

this could be nothing

but it can be more.

the thoughts are there 

my heart is theirs.

long sleeves 

and 

dry leaves. 

the time of year, wear blades became my close lover 

sending me into a deep slumber. 

the world so cruel 

yet so beautiful. 

drawn by those who are full of emotion. 

yet they are filled with nothing at all. 

the scars apon my wrist 

just turned into a dark twist

that smile was fake and you believed it.

until I was six feet under and my last words on paper were, 

"here I come, my dear slumber."