I can see what you're doing,
Waving around that pretty knife.
I hope that I am wrong,
I'm assuming you want to take your life.
In my fear and silence,
I watch your precious skin tear.
Your blood is pooling from your arms,
Yet I can't see a tear rolling off your face.
I don't know how,
You used to always grin and bear,
The demons in your mind,
Before you laid them bare against your flesh.
I can see the rope,
I can see the chair,
Please tell me,
That you don't hope to hang there.
Your note is on the side.
Your blood dripping on the floor.
You know this is the end of your time,
So you fell like the falling tide.
YOU ARE READING
Just A Mess
PoetryI'm not too sure as to what this is, but I often get bored and lost in my thoughts, so why not write them out? As I wrote I created poetic sentences, lines and phrases. So, I hope they can be enjoyed despite their mainly heavy topics. This book cove...
