Tears begin to form,

Origins unknown,

They start to rush down.


Sobs escape me as the

Sadness spreads throughout my body.


Vision blurred,

I reach for the phone,

That buzzes with your call.


Pressing ‘end’ the noise stops,

And the light of your face fades.


Shining brightly,

I see my escape,

A way to release the pain.


Cool to the touch,

Smooth in my hand.

Pressing gently on my wrist,

The red begins to appear.


Craving the final result,

The blade now slices across my skin.

As if it was meant to be.

Poem Comments


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nayachiro commented on Escape


very honest poetry, guileless. keep writing please. Thanks for letting me feel your words.

trocka7 commented on Escape


This is really moving, I can feel your anguish so clearly in each's a hard place to be, without a doubt. Just keep writing to let it out...thanks for sharing this.



I'm glad you like it. :) And that I will.

gallaxy commented on Escape


A very well told account of what a someone could be thinking just before the slicing of wrist. Neatly done. The poem that is..



Thanks so much.

Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

twiga1693’s Poems (7)

Title Comments
Title Comments
You must 0
You and my heart 1
Escape 3
Invisible 0
No more 0
Torn Love 0
My master, the shoe. 1