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Literature Text
I love the touch,
Of the blade on my skin.
I hate that doing such,
Is classed as a sin.
I love the line,
Of blood I have drawn.
I hate this sign,
That my mind is torn.
I love the scar,
That by my own hand is carved.
I hate the marr,
On my skin no longer preserved.
Of the blade on my skin.
I hate that doing such,
Is classed as a sin.
I love the line,
Of blood I have drawn.
I hate this sign,
That my mind is torn.
I love the scar,
That by my own hand is carved.
I hate the marr,
On my skin no longer preserved.
Literature
Insanity.
Running up and down the halls,
Never looking back but never looking forward.
Screaming, crawling, clawing,
The worst case they have seen yet.
The voices in my head,
The writing on the wall.
It's enough to make you scream,
It's enough to make you weep.
Crawling on the walls,
Scribbling blood on the floor.
Spelling out the voices in your head,
Insane, you're all Insane.
Come and join this fun filled house,
We welcome you and your guests.
The sane are not welcome,
But the insane, well....you're already dead.
Literature
The Same
You're like him.
Not in t
Literature
Suicidal
Blood flows from our wrists,
Making our hands turn into fists.
We only feel the pain and sorrow,
Have we given up hope for a better tomorrow?
The rope is hanging from the ceiling,
Helping us end that miserable feeling.
The pills are scattered across the floor,
Maybe we need to swallow just one more?
Others might refuse to see the cruelty of life,
While others try to end it by the knife.
Trying to get out of this cruel dream,
Sometimes all we can do is scream.
There are others like you out there,
You might not yet know where.
But they try to overcome it,
That's something not all will admit.
Every one of us needs a helping hand,
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i love it and i hate it
but i feel powerless as well
but i feel powerless as well
© 2012 - 2024 Echoes-Sounded
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