Victim to an anguish, that she'll never fully vanquish
As if stars falling from the sky, her dreams wink out and die
An impenetrable darkness blankets everything in an inky blackness
Stealing all hope away, replacing it with a painful and malignant dismay
No one left to call out to, nothing left to hold onto
A razor as thin as ice, calls out a promise of solace
With a firm but gentle slash, blood wells and spills up out of the smooth gash
Down her wrist run rivers of crimson red, a momentary reminder she's not dead
As blood begins to pool her skin begins to cool
Finally, she escapes her sorrow, for there will be no tomorrow
As darkness devours light, she has no desire to fight
Successfully aborted from this life's womb, she heads willing to her tomb
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Author:
Annabeth Isabella Thatcher (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 19th, 2022 08:41
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this while struggling with my depression.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments1
Soo sad, glad you actually didn't go through with what you penned down
Thank you, that means a lot. I am too, I hate to think of all the things I would have missed and the differences I could make.
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