On Edge

by erin.lutes97

January 3, 2014

I am the edge of a blade

The loathing in your veins

A cry when no one’s near

The bitterness at the bottom

A tear never shed

The rustling in the trees

A bed of withering daffodils

The chill that is not felt

A stillness in the night

The arms that cannot hold

A choice made too late

I am the last breath

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Comments (1)

erin.lutes97Jan 3, 2014

<p>Just to be clear, this poem is not about me, or a person I know. It's more about something cruel that is out there in the world. Despite the darkness of it, I hope you enjoy the poem.</p>