Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Purge

I feel that writing dark poems purges suicidal urges.. Hey, that rhymes.. :)

I wish I could slash my wrist
Give the knife a savage twist
Watch it ooze, the crimson gore
Have it flow right on to the floor
Grow more dizzy by the second
Weak and cold, dazed and sickened
Close my eyes, sink into oblivion deep
And wait for that blessed eternal sleep

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