The sound of running water,
The sight of crimson flowing down the drain,
The feeling of the demons cold hand carrying you to the end,
There whispers of darkness leaking into your bloodstream.
I cannot endure this pain any longer.
All I do is push everyone farther and
farther away as I sink deeper into my
world in which my brain has created.
I guess it's time to say goodbye and
Drift away...
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try