The sharp edges I caress
with the tip of my fingers
The struggle will end
as soon as I trace
a curve or bend
They won't mourn me
those so called friends
I'll be just another life
Unfairly spent
The clouds don't try
to keep me here
Although for days,
I've seen the sky cry
I'd resist the urge
if there was someone who cared
I know someone will want
a last decaying piece of me
So collect some from my purge
But don't touch my coffin
with your bloody hands
Or you'll stain it in red
and then everyone will know
why they found me dead.
A/N : Just me being morbid (:
