this poem doesn't have a title...
here i sit, alone and hit
i took a knife and slit my wrists
i walked away from you today before you turned from me
i walked the staggered, cold and haggered
leaving two twisting trails of blood
or are they tears?
can't you see the scars it leaves?
my wrists leave scars upon the earth
a trail for you to see
my legs are crossed, my head is hung
my skin is white and weak
my wrists' lips speak, my own are dead
they ask for kisses deep
i'm sorry dear, you find me here,
i only wanted sleep.
- The Great And Powerful Holly Schafer
the great and powerful poetry of holly schafer
