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 © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Knowles Avatar
January 19, 2009 at 12:09 PM
i like the emotion you show in this piece. i also like the little ryhming there is in it.
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