My Secret Happiness

by A Phoenyx in Flight   May 1, 2008


The scissors on my desk
are starting to look friendly.
They're calling out my name.

I grasp them in my hand.
And put them to my wrist.
Leaving a thin red trail behind.

My worries disappear.
I love my secret happiness.
And no one knows.

I can't seem to stop.
But it's OK
I don't want to.

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by Tammi

    Wow so short but deep for I have a close friend that cutts and I understand what this poem is sayin 5/5

    Tammi,

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