Cut

Bring me to my senses 

Make me stop

Before I lose all feelings

And go numb.

 

There's something addictive about it

Seeing the blood flow

Seeping out from inside

My life ebbing away.

 

The pain doesn't affect me the way it used to

Its like its not there anymore

But the marks on my hand are still there

And there not going away.

 

The sadness is written on the walls of this house

The pain in the bodies that litter the floor

It's all engraved in a well used nife

The gun is still waiting.

 

A heart in a bottle 

A soul in the sea

A river of blood

A cut on my hand.

This poem is about: 
Me

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