Cut my wrists and let my blood bleed onto the paper like ink,
Speak only the truth, not all these lies I’m forced to think,
Let all that I am flow from out my veins,
Show the world all the secrets I’ve lost within my brain,
Till every ounce of blood has coated the paper in crimson,
Use my last dying breath to get people to finally listen.
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Author:
PoeticBiscuit (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2019 02:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Dan
Offline)
Comments3
Wow, perfect dunk in my morning tea!
Thank you
The world will not see what you want it to see of you if you were to commit suicide. It will never understand a final act such as that.
But if you put an effort into writing your words and explain yourself and your reason, then SOME of us will know and understand..... you are in good company here.
But if you finally get people’s attention after you’re gone, you won’t be there to enjoy what you have been craving. Best to get it out, and the attention will come as others reach out. Therein may lie your satisfaction.
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