Birth Was the Death of Me

  February 16th, 2010 by 77evergone77

“blood gathers around the slits,
wells at my wrists,
ancles, and stomach,
and glide down my barely satisfied skin.
dripping down.
down to a dark pool.
made by me.
and the help of others
past any care,
and right to where hope should be.”



“You strive for the top

because you crave the danger

but can you handle

the ever persuing fall?

every mountain has it’s precipice

which leads to a steep



the sof wind of fake comforting words

accompany your decent

as the ensuind crash

puts you on the edge of death

and drives you mad”

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