The Blade

December 13, 2013

I wake from my stupor of pain-

the blade is calling for me,

singing its siren song.

There's blood to lose and nothing to gain,

tired of reminiscing all I've seen,

the blade's been here for me all along.

Its voice sweet like honey,

seductive like Aphrodite.

I try to go without it when they make me,

and when I can't, my dear friend gets replaced.

I feel so bad- I'm the only friend it has.

But when I see my true love again,

I take it to my skin;

my sins flow out freely.

Speaking of, I've sinned alot here of late-

and the blade says it wants a taste.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.