Her Blood Weeps

I like to write poems about cutting because when people ask me why i cut it is just so hard to explain it...with poems it becomes easy
Blood was her drug
Pain was her release
With a razor in her hand
She couldn't care in the least
If the world was on fire
If her tears filled her room
The beads of blood hypnotized her
Running down her wrists
The tears she no longer cried
For her, her blood would weep.
Published: 10/30/2010
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