Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
There's no hope, no hope to erase.
The long lost memories of hot summer days,
Oh, how I yearn for fingertips, cold as ice,
How I bite back a sob, you promised to play nice,
And for all the of innuendo and all the of misery,
I clutch my blade, hide in a corner, giggle with glee,
This irrational me holds my skin together with my hand,
And I sketch out my story on midnight's wet sand,
I long for a needle and a bottle of pills,
I screw my eyes shut as the tears start to spill,
Of all of the options, I gave my best excuse,
But I abandoned myself and now I hang from a noose.