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by Tigger Jul 1, 2005 category : Sadness, depression / about death
The knife slipped through my skin, the Cold ache of the cut And the Cold trickle of blood Flowing down my arm. Sitting here in my dark room, Wishing Death would hurry up Who is going to find me? Will they care ? The Weak beat of my weakened heart, As life drains away from me Slower, weaker, Colder..
by Chantelle
Wow.. you are such a good writer. I loved every line of that poem, its so deep. Well done! Love Chantelle
by Nikky
that was very good! lol very dark. but i can relate... hehe don't ask how, but i can. i love it TO DEATH
