the price of poker.<3

creative writing final; we either had to write a love poem or an emo one. Seeing as my theme for that entire trimester was emo...

his eyes slip closed
for no one knows
his pain so deep
it haunts his sleep
the blades, the blades
he'll close his shades
injure his wrists
endure the fists
his mind a fog
as his mom sobs
"my boy, my boy"
are souls a toy?
like poker chips
from ill-planned trips
used and forgotten
like blood-soaked cotton [*roflmao*]
meaningful material
with an all-new feel
the thrills of danger
are far from stranger
to those who gamble
with soul a-shamble
and expect fair play
from a devil's game
where attempts to fill holes
will cost them their souls.


the [*roflmao*] line is because i asked the class what rhymed with forgotten, and we were trying to make up things as cheesily emo as possible, and Lily suggested cotton, and i questioned her on how emo cotton is, and she said,
Oh, you know, to soak up the blood from my wrists!"
So I added the blood-soaked cotton for giggles.