My wrists are wet with blood,
my eyes are red from crying,
my heart aches with pain.
I am slowly dying.
My lungs burn from fighting,
my head hurts from trying,
my stomach is empty.
I am slowly dying.
My hands are bruised from holding on,
my knees are skinned from attempted flying,
my lips are stained from bleeding.
I am slowly dying.
My hands are shaking while holding a gun,
my tongue is dry from crying,
my chest is tight from holding my breath.
I am slowly dying.
My knees are quivering from the cold,
my hands bring the gun to my head,
my finger pulls the trigger.
I am finally dead.
-SuperWhoLockedHeart-
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Tragedies: Poems
PoetryHere, I write my own poems. These are my own creation and I hope you enjoy them. Some may be sad, some may be happy. It will be a mix of emotions. All I know is that this book will be a beautiful tragedy.
