One Two Three Four,
I slam my creaky wooden door.
Five Six Seven Eight,
I turn up my music and stay up late.
Nine Ten Eleven Twelve,
Grab my blades from off the shelve.
Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen
I missed a number, did you miss me?
I'm dying as I write this poem,
This is the only way I'll show 'em.
The knife I use on my wrists,
Is cutting all the pain that I don't want to exist.
I'm lying, crying, on the floor,
Then my heart stops, and I don't live anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Shadow's Poetry
PoetryMy poems. I created these myself, so feel free to criticise you jerks. Basically these are my thoughts crammed into one tiny corner of the Wattpad community
