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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another fairly early poem I wrote

Submitted: March 31, 2016

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Submitted: March 31, 2016



Standing before the mirror his eyes void of emotion, 
With a razor in his hand he cuts up his arm with intent,
Swift and precise he cuts deep into the flesh with a smile of content,
Faint scars across his upper arm hidden from sight,
Signs of his tainted and horrid past he couldn't forget,
His eyes closing rapidly as memories surface like a twisted dream, 
He slides onto the floor as the blade drips with his crimson blood as his lifeline flows away. 
His mind empty, heart though warm was shattered beyond repair, 
His final moments are spent in darkness as his blood flows like a river, 
No longer will he suffer as his life ends this day, 
Perhaps there could have been another way,
Maybe someone to make him feel happy once again,
As his soul leaves his body his family find his corpse,
They find him dead and for them it proved to much,
Feelings of hurt as they knew but couldn't help,
Feelings of loss as they loved and cared,
Feelings of anger and confusion as they couldn't understand.
They tried to resurrect him but alas it was to late,
The world to them dealt a blow cruel and against fate.
Alone he felt though he knew different, the people in his life cared but his spirit was broken.


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