BladesongRaven Gehrig (4-2-1982 / fae land)
Death by poetry
I lay in the porcelain cool of the white bathtub,
A razor blade glinting and sparking on the floor,
I barley concise squint to see,
Thru slitted wrists,
I bleed poetry
Words flow freely now,
pumped to the rhythm,
Of a beating heart,
Trickle slowly to your ears,
My silence now broken,
In poetry's freeing, suicide.
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