Blood

Blood.
Red,
thick,
real.
The closest thing to reality.
Makes you feel better.
When everything changes,
its still the same.
its always there.
Waiting to see you
It doesent take much work,
its so easy.
When youre lonely,
when youre sad,
when youre angry,
when youre mad.
When nothing really matters,
And you dont really care.
When suicade make sence,
a hell of a lot more then to live.
When everything is wrong,
when nothing is right.
The only way to express you're feelings.
You dont need to think,
its all about action.
To do,
to cut.
Watch the blood to its work,
percolate,
look beutiful.



Poetry by Cola666
Read 592 times
Written on 2006-10-19 at 07:02

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Cola666
Thanks... I think... This poem was written in a kind of dark time of my life, as I'm sure you noticed and I now know that suicide is stupid and a actually have a friend who tried, but failed, and I'm glad he didn't succeeded. However, thanks for reading and writing:)
Love
2006-10-31



having just found out that a suicidal friend didn't actually top himself, very recently, I find this poem annoying and want to slap you for even considering suicide never mind describing it in such a positive way. It solves nothing and leaves walking wounded souls behind to have to deal with the loss. I understand getting this sort of issue off your chest is good, but please don't relish it or submerge yourself. And in those moments of despair, be assured, it will pass and you are truly not alone in this poetic cyber space we poets call home. Suicide is a hazzard of the poets trade.

Take care,

Tai
2006-10-19