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» Poem: White wrists . White wrists . written by blackie-hawk10:28 PM 3/2/05 Empty thoughts, Being stroked by hate. The warm hate float, Into my veins and my blood. My wrists are a chaos, Of scars, made by myself, And my knife. My skin are a white mess, Of ghost-colours, made by myself, And my pills. The blood drips to the floor, I move my arm, So that the blood makes a word on the floor, It says; Bye. All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author. Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem: A dark night, filled with lust. Blood actually taste good. [ View blackie-hawk's Profile ] [ Go to the Poetry Portal ] This Poem has been viewed 170 times » Comments / Feedback by bLoodXkitty (3-3-2005 - 12:44 AM) That was awsume. I can totally relate to that. I tink blood tastes good too. » Poetry Menu »All Types »Allegory »Ballad »Ballade »Black Verse »Canzone »Cinquain »Couplets »Diamante »Dramtic Monologue »Dramatic Dialogue »Eclogue »Elegy »Epic »Free Verse »Haiku »Hymn »Limerick »Lyric »Narrative »Ode »Pantoum »Pastoral »Rondeau »Rondelets »Roundel »Satire »Sestina »Sonnet »Tanka »Triolet »Villanelle

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