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A hundred thin knives piercing my chest again and again

Waiting for me to give up.

Exsanguinating my heart.

Enjoying the sound of their glory by my screams,

That are buried six feet underground.

 

Angels turn into Devils

When the light surrenders,

And they all find it amusing to see me cry.

 

Can you feel that?

Can you feel my pulse dying out,

Fading away?

Can you feel the vibration?

The vibration of the ground that my screams make.

  

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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