skin has parted
wounds are open
still cold hearted
Emotions frozen.
Blood runs out
Onto the floor
Without a doubt
It starts to pour.
The blood it drips
Arms feel cold
scars on my hips
From the razor I hold.
Everything goes numb
warm blood down my arm
But I know what it's from
Lets call it self harm.
It's beautiful really
Like a flower you know
Except it bleeds
But still it grows.
The scars multiply
Cuts get deeper
really I don't want to die
But each time I get weaker.
Do I want to quit?
Maybe not
One more slit
Now I can't stop.
I want to give up
Cut once real deep
Will it be enough?
The blood just seeps
I'm sorry I failed
I love you so much
The blood is trailed
I already miss your touch..
YOU ARE READING
Book Of Demons..
PoetryDone somewhat in poetry form, mostly quite dark, and a lot is not poems. Just stuff that goes through my head. Mostly about failure, demons, murder, blood, etc.
