Get Your Premium Membership

My suicide

Again I slide my blade through my pale skin
Blood flows freely from my wrist 
Cuts are scattered across my body
Despair darkens my soul
Empty eyes stare back at me from the mirror 
Fear of what I am becoming wracking my body 
Gripping my arms to stop an endless flow of crimson 
Hearing sobs in the distance 
I then realize they are coming from me
Just as soon as I realize this my knees buckle
Knowing that I am broken beyond repair 
Love will never visit one as broken as me
My hands leave my wrists
Now I just let the blood flow
Once upon a time I had hope
Perhaps if I live I will again
Quietly Death is coming upon me
Rushing to comfort my broken soul
Soothing the pain from my heart and body
Taking me in his warm embrace 
Unlike the living Death gives a safety I have never felt
Very slowly a smile spreads across my face
With arms open wide Death excepts my broken soul
"Xenagogue lead me home"
"Yes child suffer no more,
Zoetic you are not"



Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.