Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer
Pinterest button
Comments Inbox

 

THE BEAT OF DEATH

She made her mind up.

When she slit her wrist.



No one could have helped her,

But just cry and stare at her bloody wrist.



Her heart is now cold just like the rest of her body.

The only beating being heard,

Is the sound of the coffin being lowered into the ground.

Please Login to post a comment



A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.