| » Poem: My Shirade |
My Shirade
written by chaoticthoughts03:57 PM 1/27/05Sitting alone in early morning
Being consumed by the feeling of mourning
Grab my dagger, beginning to cut
But its not sharp enough
Thinking in a panic
Attempting to start is my manic
I remember of the sharp blade
To which I use to take away pain
Cut one, some what helped
Cut two, I surely felt
Wait, there's room for more
Better make sure
Cut three, saw blood drip to the floor
My wounds dried up
But I still feel a muck
Maybe I should do a few more cuts
One near my wrist
One on my forearm
And one more on the outside
But this time I wasn't aiming to die
Just to calm myself
From this insomniac hell
Okay, now done with this shirade
Now time to clean up what I didn't gain
Put the blade where it was
Wipe any blood with a sponge
Clean off my arm
There will be no need for alarm
No one suspects
My secret is well kept
Well tonight I must admit I fell
But to me, I'm under an insomniac spell
In the morning all will be well
Because of my secret, that I will never tell |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
I wrote this 1/26 at 2:38 am
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