mere words.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
poetry from year 9.

Submitted: July 19, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 19, 2012

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A A A


 

blade in hand; knife in sight

waiting for the dark of night.

toes on edge, looking down;

the cars, six stories, the rest of town.

gun at my temple, heart in my chest;

yearning for eternal rest.

shut the door, break the key;

the last thing that i’ll ever see.

hands burned red, rope tied tight;

floating in immortal flight.

words are what have put me here,

against all things that i hold dear,

i’m not worth it, i remain tainted,

craving for the breathless, fainted;

rope, gun, building, knife;

whatever i need to take my life.


© Copyright 2017 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.