Pick up the knife and slice through the skin
Oh, play me a song on that sweet violin
A song of love with it's tune of war
Singing me that song that we both adore
Faster and faster, baby pick up the pace
Mar up that body, scar up that face
Glassy eyes and hollowed breath
Walking around in sudden death
It's a game, the perfect match set
Hang on sweetheart, it ain't over yet
Red strings quiver and rise
Bubbling forth like an evening tide
Streams of this red river flows
Escaping to a place only it knows
Screaming always screaming
Lost to the world in your scheming
Through your panic and your fear
Echoing those haunted words you hear
Disgusting, putrid, alone and broken
Laugh my poor fool, there's your token
Now grab at that razor feel for the blade
Never let them see that you're always afraid
No one will listen, no one will care
All through the years, no one's been there
Get over it, grow up be done
But this is a battle yet to be won
Bite through the flesh and tear at your skin
Control that desire writhing within
Worth it, you want someone to say
But only critiques pass by your way
So again, you lash violently bleeding once more
Hoping someone, anyone, will walk through that door..
YOU ARE READING
Red Violin
PoetryIt brings to life the struggles of cutting. The desire to do so is not for attention but comes from self-hatred which this poem portrays. The voice of the poem comes from the mocking voice which slowly becomes that of the individual desperately seek...
