Slit Wrists

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  • Lost Love

    Slit Wrists

    I sit here slitting my wrists
    Not knowing what else to do
    With every slice
    I wish I knew why
    The more I slit
    The more it hurts
    I don't care
    About the pain
    All I care about is you
    I slit three more times
    With every slice I scream and cry
    I ask myself
    "Why did he do this?"
    "What did I do to deserve this?"
    I slit 'til I can't no more
    Until the razor hits the floor
    I watch the blood poor out of my body
    It hits the floor
    I can't breath
    I think I'm dying
    But I'm not
    With every slice
    I think, "Am I dying? Will I live? What will he think?"
    When he finds out
    Will he cry?
    Will he laugh?
    What will he think of me
    After I slit my wrists?

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    romeo123 commented on Slit Wrists

    05-01-2009

    i feel you completely

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

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