suicide note

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
suicide

Submitted: July 05, 2008

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Submitted: July 05, 2008

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The blood I shed means nothing at all
When will it be my Turn, my Time to fall
I hold the razor blade in my hand
Shaking, trembling, looking at the elastic bandI take my eyes off it and stair at my arm
I think to myself the words Self-Harm
Everyone asks why I do what I do
No one understand what they put me though
My thoughts finally stop and go away
There now is nothing anyone can do or say
I slowly place the razor blade on my wrist
My face burns, my eyes a cloudy mist
A single tear falls slowly from my face
I start to think again, my thoughts pace
I start to ask questions, like “does anyone care”
And if so then why to they point and stare?
I stop and realize the blood on the floor
Is falls faster and faster, more and more
I place an old cloth on my battered wrist
I lay back on my bed with a clenched fist
I close my eyes and think of sweet dreams
Maybe tomorrow nothing will be as it seams
Everyone will like or love me for who I am
Or maybe they will look at me and won’t give a damn
I might as well end this sh*t now
But what will I do it with, and/or how
I write a short but thoughtful suicide note
And Slowly I slit my throat


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