My razor blade
sits on my table
by my bed
waiting for me to grab it.
each and every night
i stare and tell myself to not grab it.
it tells my mind to take it
and feel the pain
and see the blood and laugh.
i love that feeling.
i miss it too.
my scars are still visible
and i miss to see them form
i felt like i had control.
but now i know i don't.
i have too many friends around me
each and every day
they told me they loved me
each and every day
now the i love yous
don't come as often.
is it me?
is it something i said?
i think it was
you won't look at me the same
you won't talk to me as much.
I'm sorry for what i have become
i am a monster to myself.
i hate myself for stupid things.
it sucks so bad
and it hurts.
so i just might let the razor
gently kiss my wrist
and get red lipstick on my arm
and towel and clothes.
then i will fall asleep happily
and never wake up again..
**not thinking straight.. once again.. i know it's pretty lame but i haven't wrote a poem but i fit this one in and i am writing one right now. please tell me how it is! and vote on it! I'd really appreciate it!!**
