Obscene Serenity
Scars on my heart,
Scars on my wrist,
It tears my soul apart,
To know that I cannot resist.
As the razor cuts trough skin,
The adrenaline is agonizingly sweet,
Yet I know I cannot win,
So I set myself up to be beat.
Then blood it starts to flow,
A seductive temptation from my vein,
Soon I can feel my heart start to slow,
And my mind is filled with a beautiful pain.
My suicide you shall call an obscenity,
While it is my own peaceful serenity.
Copyright © Ashli Gilbert | Year Posted 2007
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