Precious Memories Poem by Shay Mitchell

i need to feel the sweet song of a razor caressing my skin,
loving the quiet beat bleed through my veins,
singing the solo lullaby that will drift me deep into death.
they will remember the scrolls etched into my skin,
bringing life to the beatless echo within.
lines of silent wishes and dreams are drawn,
into the beautiful solo song that was lost in the sinful rythme.
cutting brings my voice to be heard,
showing people my harmful soulful possibilities.
rain falls crimson as hells walls,
fertilizing my ever present cutters dreams.
blades scatter over countless memories,
replaying each verse of my heartless reliabilities....