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Friday, April 29, 2005


The Last Cut (...it's another poem!)
I stand alone
Surround in darkness
A sharp blade in hand
Staring back at my reflection
In the smooth side of the blade

I lower the sharp edge to my wrist
Taking in a deep breath
As I slide the blade across my wrist

A deep cut was made
Blood rushing out
Rolling over old cuts and scars
Dripping of my fingers
Onto the cold ground

Fingers turning cold
Dropping the blade
Numbness talking over my body
Collapsing to my knees

I feel my heart weakening
Slowly stopping
Taking in less air

Dropping into my puddle of blood
My eyes slowly closing
Barley able to move
I let my last breath out
My heart stops

I am finally free from pain

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Please, tell me what you think!

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