PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As I lay here and look at my ceiling,

I realize that I have no feeling.

All the pain has gone away,

And it's now stationed at bay.

I grab a razor

And feel nothing as it cuts through me like a lazor.

The blood runs across my palm,

Which strangely, makes me calm.

A band-aid you say?

No, maybe another day,

Because there is no need for a Band-aid.

In a couple years time the scar will start to fade,

Because my mark has just been made.

The blood doesn't stop

So you're going to need your mop,

And it's slowly dripping to the floor

Yes, it's a blood bank galore.

I watch the blood rise and rise

As i think of all my unsaid good-byes.

Oh! Here it comes-up over my head!

Now you see, I didn't die because my wrists were red.

No, I died because there was too much blood in my bed.

I drowned in my own blood,yes that is why I am dead.