Cut

1 Comments

Tags:
  • Dark Poetry
    • ,
  • Sadness
    • ,
  • Loss
    • ,
  • Death
    • ,
  • Anger
    • VerlassnTraum
    • The wounds are still fresh and unfortunately there is no lidocaine for love

    Cut

     Sliding easily across my wrist
    ever smoothly through the skin
    feeling searing, biting pain
    then see the line pumped by the vein
    tickling, trickling down my arm
    blacking out, the body's alarm
    but that point is far away
    so I sit here in the rain
    rivers pouring out of me
    as I slowly cease to be
    cold steel rips through my flesh
    as I inhale my last breath

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    angelchaser commented on Cut

    12-23-2010

    I love this type of dark poetry and I'll be reading more of your work soon. I hope this is just fiction and not a truth you have told.
    Reply to Comment

    VerlassnTraum

    12/24/2010

    I have a friend that self mutilated and I helped him work through it...thats the inspiration for this...

    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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