Self Pity Poem by William King Jr.

Self Pity



He slit his wrist and watch it bled
Down his arm onto the bed
It stains his sheets just like his soul
He cuts because his heart's not whole
He cry's one tear, one lonely drop
Onto the wound his teardrop drops
He feels the pain; its emotional
She made him do this.
Its because of her

He gave her his life and she misused it
Gave her his heart and she abused it
She made him immortal now he fiends for death
Made him happy now he cries
Made him whole now he's incomplete
Ha, its funny, because that guy is me

I feel the pain of losing my life
I see my wounds and know they aren't right
I feel the hurt and know the pain
But without her I'm not the same
I see only our past, never the present
Never knowing if you were really heaven sent
I bleed not my pain but to cleanse my spirit
Tonight I think I overdid it
I feel so cold but yet at peace
Now into eternal sleep

Friday, July 2, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: suicide
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