Cut
blood is on the floor
wishing i wasnt born
the razors in the sink
hoping i can think
i feel bad for what ive
done i feel i cannot
run.
yelling in my head
wishing i were dead
in the corner all
alone... there is no
foe
i count to 1 wishing
i could run.
i count to 2 hoping
i wont lose.
i count to 3 wishing
i was free.
i count to 4 but... there is no door.
Copyright © Ariel Syleos | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment