Midnight Cutter

Posted: March 6, 2016 in Dark Poetry, Poetry

As midnight strikes, high lonesome takes over
The height of pains, an emotional do-over
When the bathroom sink shines squeaky clean,
The razor blade calls as if from a hazy dream.

I cut through skin while the whole world sleeps

The world cut me deep, and so my heart weeps

My wrists bleed clean, a warm crimson blight 

If I die tonight, blame it on the deep razor cut.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s