Untitled
The sharp edge cuts a fine line
into my flesh
once more the blood acts
as my tears
the cuts I make
are not painful
For the flesh is full
of numbness
cut, cut, cut
cut until the scars are permanent
the ending product is a scar
expressing my intense feelings
towards life
the word is hate
To hate myself and how I feel
To hate the world in all it sways
The hate that posses
my weak soul
I weep often
as I am burned in a
grave full of hatred.
Fiery Soul