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Donna's blog

 

My Razor is my Treasure

I sit here in my room and I think about everything
as I take this precious razor to my wrist
I feel relief and pleasure as I slice my skin
I let the blood drip to the ground
I'm dying, praying,bleeding, and screamin for anyone
but nobody hears me

I wear my dark clothing and they think im a freak
As I walk past I see their eyes on me staring at me
tearing my soul apart
Is it because I'm different?
Is it because I'm not a perfect little stuck up b*tch?

I scream but no one hears me
I cry and still no one
Why..........


Written by Donna


Submitted by Donna
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Comments

christina
christina
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1635 days ago    Reply
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I really loved your poem.
 
lover69
lover69
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1187 days ago    Reply
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i did this onces because for a girl
 


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