this poem, like many of mine, is written in my darkess hours, hours of depression.


Looking deep in me,
My reflection glares back,
Screaming to be let be.

Left alone.

Life started wrongly,
Nothing ever goes right,
My fist hits strongly.

Reflection gone.

Glass all around,
Cold, sharp and deadly
Falling to the ground.

Deeply cutting.

Poetry by amy-leigh
Read 729 times
Written on 2006-07-28 at 02:24

Tags Death  Sadness  Pain 

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