Save me from myself, I beg you.
Don't let me fall down, I beg you.
Hide me from their screams and shouts, I beg you.
Take away these razor blades, I beg you.
Make me forget these nightmares, I beg you.
Forgive me for the wrong I've done, I beg you.
Take this gun, and take my life.
Please.
I beg you.
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Author:
Stella (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 1st, 2017 11:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: SorrowfullyHappy
Offline)
Comments3
just don't hand me the gun cause i would shoot myself
I would help you if you would only let me
Great write
Do you put your razorblades in your mouth and suck on them to warm them up . Do you wrap your wrists with gauze before you cut so the gauze can soak up the blood and not make a mess . What is your favorite music to cut by . Sounds so script . Like a B movie , a spaghetti western , or another cop show on TV . The real nightmare is happening in Washington D C . Your little sideshow should you succeed won't even make the news and the obit will say she passed away . Or you could write another poem and buy another day . And another one for tomorrow and the day after that . Poems are the bandaids you put on the hurts of life . Untill you are completely cover from head to toe . But one day they will have to come off because you have healed . No more necessary poems because the pain is gone .
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