by Cynthia corrigan Jan 7, 2014
category :
Sadness, depression /
lost relationships
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This floor is cold like the blood my body pumps, with my fingers gouging in my eyes. And the suicidal thought brushing this freeing feeling in my mind. I wonder how is it possible to be love when I only know the hate. When will I get better. Will I get better. If I scream I wouldn't be heard like the world has blocked me out rejected me. Abandoned me. I now see said the blind. |
by Thomas
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I see a lack of propper punctuation and a certain grammatical typo or two. I'll give the few suggestions I can, perhaps guide you into reviving this poem, probably into a more symbolistic-ish view. |