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deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Slits On My Wrists

The slits on my wrists
Are a form of bliss

Sliding the cold razor against soft skin
Watching the crimson blood flow with a slight grin

Moaning in pain I do it again
Wincing slightly I hear my name

I lock the door and grip the blade
I dig deeper watching the floor as it gets sprayed

God the blood is so red
I feel like I'm already dead!

This burning sensation in my limbs
It crawls all over my skin!

Stop this horror!
Stop this fright!

I give up
I'm no longer going to fight!

The blood stains my white carpet
I laugh once more like an estrained pauper

Driping with red
I will finally get rid of this dread

And forever be dead.
Written by firesister (Samantha Jane)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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