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.

David2016

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