deepundergroundpoetry.com
Magic
It is
Like magic.
She draws a silver card
And sees and thinks “should I?” she say,
But her sadness has pushed her to the brink.
Now her silver card is red, so many years ago down this path she was lead.
Now this magic trick has a twist,
For that silver card turning red, is really a blade against her wrist.
Not now but someday, she will no longer exist.
The blade in her wrist
Will become the knife that took her life..
She is now dead,
And this path she was lead,
Has her pillow stained red,
With cuts on her wrist,
She no longer exist.
On her bed is a knife,
That has taken her life,
It is tragic
Playing with
Magic.
Like magic.
She draws a silver card
And sees and thinks “should I?” she say,
But her sadness has pushed her to the brink.
Now her silver card is red, so many years ago down this path she was lead.
Now this magic trick has a twist,
For that silver card turning red, is really a blade against her wrist.
Not now but someday, she will no longer exist.
The blade in her wrist
Will become the knife that took her life..
She is now dead,
And this path she was lead,
Has her pillow stained red,
With cuts on her wrist,
She no longer exist.
On her bed is a knife,
That has taken her life,
It is tragic
Playing with
Magic.
Published 7th Feb 2018
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20th Apr 2022 4:43am
I like this, especially the last two lines. I also like the silver and red symbolism. I understand this type of poem, and the need to write it- but I just have to say I hope you do not end your life.
