Treasure Island

Jordan Myrie


Die


Feels like the walls are closing in
The cold blade up against your skin
Blood is dripping down your arm
Don't do it don't do no harm
Pass out on the wooden floor
Body up against the door
Thats right die let your sorrows go
You'll go to hell your in for a show

Submitted: Sunday, October 13, 2013
Edited: Saturday, October 26, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

When I got sad, I just picked up the pencil and started righting.

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