I have this image.
An image of no return.
Standing outside the A'n'E.
Looking in as my soul burns.
I take a 3inch blade and drag it down the middle of each arm.
It was my brain I could not calm.
Splitting my veins in half.
Next time you see someone struggle,
Please do not laugh.
I can feel the blood pour down
to my wrist,
then drip of the tip of my fingers.
The feeling of regret lingers.
The feeling of fear whimpers.
My thoughts would be still,
Stopping completely.
Just for once my emotions have beat me.
After though,
nothing nor no one could hurt me ever again.
As I would be free,
Even if I am sitting In the devils den.
-
Author:
Paris Marceau (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 7th, 2019 06:42
- Comment from author about the poem: Hard times and dark places. We all have images in our heads. We all imagine the worst at times.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 45
Offline)
Comments1
The best of times, the worst of times. The paradox of humanity. Each life is filled with both. Cling to the good times, erase the bad times. Paint yourself a place of happiness and live there.
Your poem seems a nightmare. One I would not want to endure. Perhaps attempting to write a reminiscence of happier times would erase this bit of darkness. Remain unconquerable you have endured the worst and survived. A bright future ahead. - Phil A.
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