These poems range in moods. Don't expect them all to be depressing or happy.
This Blade
This blade is my relief
from the world
and from grief.
You don't love me,
but this blade does.
It keeps calling me, beckoning.
I struggle, but in the end,
I always give in
To the feeling of pain,
The only thing I have.
Pain,
The thing that tells me I'm still human.
'Cause I'd rather feel pain
Than the empty feeling of nothing.
You say you don't love me,
But this blade does.
