It late and all I can think about is suicide.
It would only be physical because inside I have already died.
Tears on my face and razor blade in my hand.
I drop it, lookin at the mirror and stand.
I've never hated myself so much.
I put my hand down, to the razor I only touch.
Trying remember how bad last time was.
I end up not doing but sitting there in pause
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poems
PoetryA book of poems, I've been writing through out the years. Most are sad and depressing and others are love that gets destroyed. Some I relate to and some I dont.
