I hear it calling.
I see it shining.
Edge of mercy.
Finds me dying.
Cold is the touch.
Sharp is the blade.
Holding it gently.
The cut is made.
Feel the sting.
A tear of red.
Smell the blood.
Close to dead.
Taste the power.
Controlling this knife.
Relief is coming.
Surge of life.
Water running.
Sound of peace.
Washed away.
Pain to cease.
Now I’m living.
Not for long.
Short term high.
Repeat again this dance and song.
3 comments
This is such a beautiful poem!
Thanks. I missed this comment. I never know if the things falling out of my head sound as good once they’re out.
No problem, I also tend to reply late. There’s something so raw about your poem: it captures perfectly your emotions while setting them free. You definitely have a great talent.