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Crimson Tide
Contributed by
bobotheclown
on
Thursday, 15th August 2002 @ 07:12:09 AM in AEST
Topic:
SadPoetry
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I stare at my wrist Where the criss-crossed scars Have converged into one I pick up my razor And dwell/think about bringing it Out of its retirement
So many choices So many wrong ones But my mind isn't fully functional Warped by anti-depressants That don't work Except at stealing money
I add two more cuts Putting scar atop scar With a sudden idea I pull my sleave up Bring out an exacto knife And draw it against my bicep
Cutting downwards I gasp and shake Closing my eyes A lone tear, drifts out Like a diamond The only beautiful thing for miles
I measure it A four inch cut Proud of my morbid 'accomplishment' I watch in fascination As the blood trickles down And merges with my wrist
In a haze... I think Its the converging of two war-torn nations My sleeve rolls down Staining it... crimson I pull it up And dab methodically Like a robot at my cuts
Copyright ©
bobotheclown
... [
2002-08-15 07:12:09] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Crimson Tide
(User Rating: 1 ) by Jessica_Saini on
Friday, 16th August 2002 @ 02:30:18 AM AEST (User
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a Message)
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I think that most people don't have a clue what goes through the minds of people that are depressed, and about to kill themselves. If you were speaking from experience, or a friend's experience, it must have been a difficult poem for you to write. Job well done. |
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Re: Crimson Tide
(User Rating: 1 ) by wyrd_faerie on
Sunday, 16th March 2003 @ 05:05:34 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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beautiful... |
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