Blood Poem by basil brewer

Blood



I'm messed up in the head
I think I should be dead
This Anger you fed
With the blood you shed
You think it helps but it kills me instead
And on your own two hands is the red you have shed
And onto your hands is the red you have bled
My thirst for you is no more
With death you have drenched my soul
Now it is oh so very poor
I can't handle this pain anymore
I take a handful of pills
I hope you know how this feels
The sound of your name makes me peel
I'm not lying, this is for real
But lets not make it into a big ordeal
This handful of pills is my very last meal
And this...... is my very last breath
Now it is I who meets my death

Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: pain
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