| » Poem: Cuts |
Cuts
written by AthiestAnarchist12:10 AM 10/24/04| This is the time of tragity and dispair. Nothing but my hatrid runs through the winter air. I try so hard and got nowhere but a dark and lonly place. All I see is the blood all over my face. I take a knife and pull it accross my head. I have a hungar that cannot be fed. I leave a scar upon my life. All I do is sleep at night. I don't think about anything any more. I don't care who's at my door. I jump out my window and onto the ground. I lay in the bushes dead and never to be found. You can mark me by my present place, the one single scar that goes all the way accross my face. |
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| » Comments / Feedback | by Death_By_Blood (2-3-2005 - 11:29 PM)
| hey man, oh this one is kool...i think u showed me this one at school |
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