The key
Cut my wrists,
for i am needing.
Hope to die,
from to much bleeding.
Slash my throat,
To be the feeding.
Shed my blood,
Its what i am seeing.
The lines on my wrists,
tell all my stories.
From drama to death,
to happy to boring.
They show all my pain,
My anger or hate,
They release all the demons,
The devil did create,
And shove them inside me,
But now are realeased.
I murdered those demons,
Who are now deceased.
Now i shed my blood,
taking such a risk.
I take the little razer,
and make lines on my wrist
I realize my mistake,
I shouldn't be afar,
looking at my wrist,
Seeing all my scars.
Im done with the cutting,
The scar-making death,
Im done with it for good,
saving every breath.
Now today,
Happy and fine,
And seeing those scars,
Taking away my time.
I walk into my closet,
And pull out a tiny box.
I take a key around my neck,
And stick it in the lock.
I open it to see something,
That i do not favor.
I see the dry red on it,
And i stare down at my razer.
All the memories,
Rushing back at me.
I smile boldly,
I am now happy.
i don't need that item anymore,
It's not here to stay
So i sigh, boringly,
And throw that box away.
The box full of memories
And before i throw it out
inside i put the key.
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