Burn
Some of us
Like you and I
Were born to live
And live to die
Why bother deal
With the depression of life
When sanctuary of death rests on the edge of a knife
The flame and pills
Do nothing for the pain
And razors don't work to cure
The sting of rejection and hate
So strike the matches
Run start the fire
And burn in puddles
Of crimson desire
Copyright © Sammantha Wood | Year Posted 2006
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