Title: Self Mutalation
Tags: emo, death, cutting, poem
Blog Entry: Self-Mutilation i feel the cold handle of my dagger . . . feel the weight it puts on my hand so tiny compared. . . i can sence the wanting of touch to my so ripe skin. . . already i can feel the slight pain, then the numbness of blood loss. . .the feelings of regret before my last moment on this tortured planet. . . the light sprays onto the cold and heartless steel shining the deathening light to my face. . . i see my life as if a movie too fast to comprehend. . . images of all that is good . . . and pictures of all that i want to take with me. . . already i can taste the salty blood running down my hand peircing hot . . . the metalic taste that i oh so love. . . the smell that could bring me to my knees . . . so tempting now. . . to end my pathetic life my breath has stilled i can hear the steady breaths coming as i am ready . . . then i stop a hairs width away from my mark. . . i already know what is to come. . but i stop . . . for the thing that i love most being being there talking to people whether im shy or not being there smelling the nasty axe smell from a friend being as i am origanal and shy and curious. . . having to see through the dark and seeing the light from the smallest of things like a small poem of hate or love or the face of a demented angel it is the having to see past what others find dark to see my light my life that keeps the blade off of my fragile flesh. . . these are my emo moments what are yours? by: reen
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