Poems by lisa snyder

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  • Gone (1)

    If i cut my wrist
    slit it with a knife...

  • The gun sits there next to my bed
    i think about all the mean things that you said...

  • I lay down
    wanting to die...

  • There are many problems in my life
    the best solution is a knife...

  • So many times Ive cut my wrist
    with a sharp blade and a sickened twist...

  • I cut my wrist
    one by one...