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Poesía

Poem that is written through my life. It was written when that thought came to me This was the continue ones as I got logout out my previous account.

Cutting.

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by emilytoh52

by emilytoh52

Sitting down in a corner,

looking at those scars on my wrist.

Thinking about why I cut.

I look up to the celling,

I happened to see the blade on the table.

I stare at it.

It looks like it was telling me it's alright. Will be fine.

I imagine those blade on my wrist.

Going across my skin.

Blood droplets are formed.

Bit by bit.

I slid deeper and deeper.
Tick, tick, tick.

Blood went dripping down,

down from my hand to the floor.

I wish that by this,

my life is over.

It been so tough,

so tiring.

Exhausted.
Cutting....

Such a sensitive words.

You get judge.

You get scars.

Why do you still cut?

Cause' I'm alone....

Never had someone to stay in my life.

Comfort me, encourage me.

Cutting myself...