This is the end.
Hold my breath and count to ten
Breathe out,
Count again
Close my eyes and hold the blade
The cold tingling feeling
As the pain starts to fade.
The feeling is strong
But it never takes too long
Before the feeling goes away
Replaced by pain
Not pain from the cuts-no
Pain from the deadly words and their blows
Pain from the massacres of knives and swords
Pain from the letters, the phrases. Their cause
Pain from the day that never seems to go away
But what's the point?
Because if all else fails, death, with my name already engraved.
They'll be no more cuts.
No more shame
No more smiles.
The end of the game
Checkmate, the final move
Strait across
The silence soothes
YOU ARE READING
Jump
PoetryCold. Warm. Dark. Light. There's no difference when all you feel is numb; that's all I ever feel. The physical pain isn't pain anymore, it's relief. It's the words that hurt - only the words. But what happens when you want to use that blade...
