Poetry Collection

Freedom

Blood coursing through my veins,

a razor twirling between my fingertips,

ashamed of my thoughts...

I close my eyes,

bowing my head.

Eyes open, palm up...

Fingers grip the blade

pressing it to my wrist.

Deeper and deeper...

Blood pools,

crimson webs

drip

Eyes studying my wrist,

a single tear mixes

with the crimson

"Why?" I whisper.

Freedom

Freedom reaching my body,

a single "I'm sorry,"

leaves my lips.

Now,

they see...

they see the damage they did.

That sorry was not for them,

but

for those who cared...

for those who gave a damn...

for those who saw passed their façade...