Run to the bathroom cause life's been bad,
It could be worse for that I'm glad,
But no it's been too hard to harsh to me,
So I tell my family I have to pee,
What I really do is go to the bathroom and bleed,
Cut until my skin shudders,
Done it so much it's just like butter,
Holding on to the thoughts of mothers and brothers,
Cutting bit by bit until there is a knock at the door,
Death's coming in my soul goes out,
Like fire from Satan's mouth,
But from this I won't be coming out,
I soon regret and begin to shout,
But this is the consequence we must face,
When we cut are wrist and begin to brace,
You can run the run chase the chase,
Until you make the wrong turn and meet death in the face,
His expression cold,
All fear is shown,
But when you cut they're slices not holes,
You begin to sink through the slices,
"God made the food but the devil made spices",
We cut until the feeling goes numb,
And the hand in our mouth as we suck on our thumb,
To have something to tense for the pain,
But the only thing that ends that is the end of our shame,
In life people call us lame, ugly, stupid, weird,
And we have to ignore them or make things clear,
At the end of the day death is one cut near,
Cut to cut burn to burn,
But when you cut the penalties is what we all deserve.
YOU ARE READING
Words Of A Mircale
PoetryThese are the songs of my life, From blades that cut through my words, To a lifestyle that leaves the most brutal burns, Feel my presence exclusively from my fingers to the screen, I hope to get a few "I felt that" Hear the voice of each phrase, Hea...
