One pill that’s all I need.
One cut, just enough to make me bleed.
One shot, helping me not to cry.
One bullet, enough to make me die.
I need something to end all the pain.
Just something to keep me from going insane.
I take four pills, drown them in a beer.
I take two more, to make my mind clear.
Later on, I pick up my blade,
Waiting for the world to fade.
Slide it across my skin,
And wait for the flow to begin.
The needle pierces my vein,
It’s just enough to sustain
The perfect high.
The darkness grows; the night slips by.
I pick up the gun.
My final time to have some fun.
The pain has never stopped; it only got bigger.
It’ll all be gone soon. Time to pull the trigger.
Poem - 2
- March 23, 2008
- californiaxbaby7
- No Comments
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