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Slow Torture (Slow Death)
I look at the clock
The time hasn't changed
It's amazing
Things go by so quickly
In so little time
I reflect on the day
Failing grades
Fights with friends
Parents angry
I pick myself apart
Thinking
"Why am I doing this?"
These thoughts are
Slow torture
I look at my forearm
I trail my finger along the scars
I blame everyone
That is,
Everyone
Other then me
I pick up the blade
Covered in my own blood
I lay it against my arm
Close my eyes
And ruin myself
I feel the cut
The sting
The pain
I think to myself
"Why won't I go?"
"I have no purpose for staying here."
I hug my knees to my chest
And whisper to myself:
"Why Am I Wanting To Suffer This Slow Death?"
