Poisoned blood from poisoned scissors

Okay, so it's a little bit dark, but it's pretty good for the crap I ususally write (:

From my wrist to white scissors,

My blood now on the ground,

Drips of red now paint the floor,

But these cuts will not be found.

 

Every tear and every rip,

Begin to let pain leave,

In a dark red liquid,

Staining my thin white sleeve.

 

You see the slices bring no pain,

Instead they let it go,

because these scissors in my shaking hand,

were once meant to sew.

 

Not now, no, not now,

Now they are stained like my sleeve,

With a deep, dark,rich liquid,

That only I can see.

 

My blood is my own,

And no one else should see,

Even though poisoned,

It still belongs to me.

 

It is secret because of the color,

A dark red that is so bold,

A secret because of the feeling,

Not warm but very cold.

 

Atleast that’s how it feels with the poison,

That now rests in my veins,

the poison poured on the scissors,

slowly takes my life away.

 

And I guess I’ll go to hell,

Since this is suicide,

And I’m still barely breathing,

But inside I’ve already died.

Author's Note

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Good or bad, either, don't care, just tell me the truth (:

Reviews

[SkinlessFrank]

Reminds me of my own suicidal tendencies.

[Jane Doe]

Shhh I LOVED IT
Sounds like something I would prevent You from doing ;) lol

Anyway OMG TIFF I MISSED YOU I HATE CHESAPEAKE TOOOO MANY GUYS OH AND HIT MEH CELLIEEULAR DEVICE UPor my inbox and ofmpage on here Lol

Xoxoxo
Ur loving lil sissayyy/midget feet
~abbie
100/100