Is It Real

Tears and sorrows I once knew
Weeping and whimpering sitting in
the dark
Trying to find where I belong
Torn clothes and fallen from
my waist
Hair ratted and a empty bottle
of whiskey
No home to take the chill from
my body
No food to satisfy the hunger and the pain
within my belly
Down I go the knife I hold within
my hand
A trail of blood trickles down
my chest into the pit of my
Thinking once last drink would put me
over the edge
One last stick of the knife would
take my life and be gone

Poetry by wbluerose02
Read 1036 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 03:22

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