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Red droplets race down my sides,
Down my wrists, my ankles, my thighs.
As they race downward, they make designs.
As they race, I do not cry.
I have a mark on my body for every error I’ve made…
So far I have a million, and am nowhere close to done.
My friend, my blade, approves of what I’ve made.
I made a fine mess, a masterpiece,
Such a fine array of marks, big and small.
Such a fine assortment of lines, not small, but tall….
And still So many ways to hide them all.
Lie to me and tell me I was SICK all along.
Lie to me and say THAT PLACE is where I belong.
Red droplets envelop me with the paths they leave.
Is it only blood, or is it only lies that I BLEED?
I can lie and tell myself I’m not SICK,
But that lie is the reason I long so much to BLEED.
And on my sanity the voices FEED....
- by L3thal Ch3micalz |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 11/27/2008 |
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- Title: Sick
- Artist: L3thal Ch3micalz
- Description:
- Date: 11/27/2008
- Tags: sick
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Comments (3 Comments)
- shinitai666 - 12/14/2008
- good job! *takes blade away*
- Report As Spam
- taytay_lover - 11/28/2008
- what a good poem did you make it up???if you did well bravo...lol
- Report As Spam
- Jenna894 - 11/28/2008
- I LOVE IT U GET A 5... and a blade *gives blade*
- Report As Spam