You say that I need to prove I'm real,
I don't see the point here...
The one that was never in the pictures,
The one that could find a way to keep distance...
If I Have An Heart
You Too Have An Pumping Organ...
Sipping vodka,
I pour myself another drink...
I know I seem to be recycling
the same old poem...
Children of the dark,
there is no need to be afraid...
The pain you feel is all to real.
The wound seems to peel...
To the one who first find my letter,
I apologize for the state my body must be in...
Blood drips slowly from the slit on my wrist,
I can feel the throb of my pulse bobbing...
Hatred is useless,
Sadness is endless...
I am crumbling inside,
But I don't show it out...
If only she had
feathers of fearlessness...