One cut, Two cuts,
Three cuts, Four.
You close your eyes,
Then cut some more.
Five cuts, six cuts
Seven then eight.
The tears flow harder,
But you've opened the gate.
Nine cuts, Ten cuts,
Then you start once more.
As you crawl into a corner,
Your blood dripping to the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Journal Of The Fallen
PoetryThis is a journal of poetry I've written over the years
