Snip,snip.
Cut away the rope
that I'm holding onto.
Cut me away,
let me fall.
Do it slowly,
gradually,
painfully.
Snip the rope away fiber by fiber
and let me fall.
Fall down, down, down.
Snip, snip.
Cut away the string
that has tied by heart up.
A pretty little package,
tied up with a bow.
String holding it together,
you cut it apart.
Snip, snip.
Cut away that small rope,
that's slowly fading away.
An if I slip,
don't try to catch me,
I know you just want to go and
snip, snip.
YOU ARE READING
We're All Mad Here
PoetryJust a series of poems. A series of words. A collection of stories. A collection of feelings. I think I've explained enough, it's up to you to read on.
