Razors

by Belinda   Jan 2, 2005



The razor stares with a beckoning call
My name I hear as i walk down the hall
On the counter is where it sits
Through my arm is its perfect fit
Its not happy until my blood drips
My life fades as the razor slips
Up and down my arm it glides
Bringing me thoughts of suicide
I see me on the floor dead
With a note left behind on my bed

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Latest Comments

  • 19 years ago

    by Belinda

    thanks you guys i appreciate it. iam trying to stop as well. Although it has gotten tons better i have msn messenger if you guys ever want to talk and i will read your poetry right now

  • 19 years ago

    by Billi Vermillion

    I can understand how u feel i used to be a cutter well i still am but im gradually stopping if u could plz read some of my poems an coment and if u ever need to talk i have yahoo msn and aim messenger so yeah good poem expressive ur a good writer

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