razors

Learn more about other poetry terms

The first time you asked for a hug I flinched. It was because of you. But it was not. It was all about me. My head was playing a horror movie.
I walked upstairs feeling bad about myself. But then I remembered the razors on the top shelf. The urge became too powerful, I just had to fulfil. And leave red stains across my wrist,
narcotics and razors cannot block these bullets that explode through my chest every time i think of  our last kiss
Subscribe to razors