Escaped

1 Comments

Tags:
  • Sadness
    • ,
  • Death

    Escaped

     You drap the blade across your wrist
    suck in a breath against the sharp pain
    you want to scream out,
    but you know they'll come running.
    It's all their fault,
    they drove you to this.
    As you continue to bleed,
    you smile.
    As your vision fades,
    you rejoice.
    You've finally escaped.

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    Flinker commented on Escaped

    10-14-2011

    Wow, very powerful poem. Great specific images too.
    Reply to Comment

    LilliannaFenton

    11/06/2011

    Thanks, written in the spur of the moment, a fit of boredom.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    LilliannaFenton’s Poems (27)

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