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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2162151
this poem is about self hate, and self sacrifice.
Improvised knife,
I use an improvised knife,
It helps me forget about my awful life.
I carve it into my skin,
Really deep but only thin.
The more I do the deeper I go.
Blood is dripping fast but it seems so slow.
The demons inside are bursting to be free,
The darkness is eating away at me.
My thoughts are hurting and making me weak.
I feel my tears rolling down my cheek,
As I think of all the people who made me like this
Would I be the one they truly miss?
I close my eyes and count to ten,
I grab the knife and start again.
The blade is sharp and very cold,
As it slides across my skin, the blood and pain turns to gold
Like lost treasure that’s just been fount.
I don’t stop at a small amount.
The more I do the better I feel.
I open my eyes, it seems more real.
I watch the blood dribble down my leg
I wish it was all over, I want to be dead
I work up the courage to finally stop,
The blade is falling as I watch it drop.
No more blood and no more fears,
As I wash away all my tears.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2162151-Improvised-knife