At night he crys and creates the demonic lullaby to keep the Demons asleep,
Blood pouring from your wrist to your feet,
Your ghost tainted eyes have seen
Your who life flash before your eyes
And you didn't see yourself better.
You saw yourself ready to jump off a chair and get choked by one of deaths
Ropes.
Killing off what's left of the monster Inside,
Showing to the world what lies you held inside,
Setting fire to the corpse that teached you to use up all your time by
Changing the words
of your doubtful mind
And changing them into a
New lullaby for the next to come back into the closet and hide.
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
