A tremble of fingers, a slip of a blade,
a picture of your face.
A clench of a fist, a flick of a wrist,
it's you who brought me to this.
A cut there, a slice here,
a cap of pills and a sip of beer.
A sliver of fear, a soft sigh,
I wonder if you will think of me tonight.
A shaky breath, a slight whimper,
I always thought this would be easier.
A few moments to go, a few more memories to throw,
and a note that was wrote many months ago.
There are seconds left,
and it's full of regret.
Your gone, it's too late now,
your soul has flown south.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry.
PoetryPoem all written by Paintingtheworldgray, they are older and some are newer. Don't read unless you like depressing poetry. The cover is not real blood, I made it with Fruit Punch Kool-Aid, so no worries yeah?
