|
| |
The Razor
The razor in my hand
Easily is sinking in,
Going deeper and deeper,
Slicing through my skin.
As my body begins to open,
My blood begins to flow,
It's running out of me,
A puddle starts to grow.
The pain, it is intense,
It's making me want to rush.
Finally, there's the artery,
The blood begins to gush.
The job's done, I'm waiting
For my life to leave.
Never again will I
Be made to grieve.
Copyright ©
Mathew Sturgeon
|
|