Trend

Slide the blade across your wrist.
Slice the skin.
Feel the breath taking bliss.
Let the pain begin.
You watch the blood pour out.
You see the open wound.
You feel the tingle in your scalp.
It'll all be over soon.
You know people are going to talk.
Their all going to call you weird.
Their all going to point and gawk
And laugh at your worst fears.
But i promise if you come to me,
Ill be here if you need a friend.
Ill tell them all to let you be.
Because i know cutting isn't a trend.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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