Roses are red, violets are blue, I've got a secret that I will never tell you.
I'll give you a hint, it starts with a blade, deep down in skin but red soon to fade.
It starts with a yell, and then with a cry.
It doesn't hurt bad but I want to die.
One two three four, red from my wrist drips, drips the floor.
oh how I can't take this anymore.
So i cry and cry and think about what might happen next in life.
It's hopeless, I'm out of time.
...I choose to die...
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Poetry Poetry don't you dare tell
PoesíaFeelings are from the inside to out. These poems are about little things in life that come with a twist.
