The cold icy blade,
Running across my skin,
Sending chills down my spine.
Crimson blood running down my wrist,
Dripping down drop by drop to sink below me.
I feel calm, and in control.
The devil inside me has taken my soul.
The blades doing its job one time, two times, three and more.
My vision goes blurry, the room goes dark, my heart pounds faster.
I wake up the next day groggy, confused.
People pounding on my bathroom door.
My brain pounding in my head.
I put on my best face,
Because they can't know,
They won't know,
Ill find an excuse, for everything.
And their world will be fine.
No matter if mines a living hell.
They'll never know.
......Until its to late.
YOU ARE READING
Abuse pomes
PoetryThis story is completed I hope u like it it's over it's sad is all I can say it's pretty much my life
