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Bleeding from this cross.... This cut on my wrist... My soul is black, With just a silverish twist. I'm GONE. She flies through the air, Fire catching a glimpse of her red hair, This life is not fair, she claims, Too many fables, Pains and gains, I need time to adjust, In this life, Where tears turn to dust... This life is not enough, When you have nobody to trust. |
Show some strength instead of weakness.Anyone can cut themselves.Rise above it and prove to yourself and to everyone that you are better than all the other sad teens who think they have nothing to live for when their whole life is ahead of them.Most of them are from suburbia anyway.Put things in perspective-at least you have food to eat and water to drink.Life can't be that bad. Oh and your poem was one of the better cutting and mutilation ones.At least you have some poetic sense and aren't just wallowing in self pity and demanding attention. Cheers A.C | Posted on 2007-06-24 00:00:00 | by Asakura Cowboy | [ Reply to This ] | |