Drip Drip Poem by Anthony Smith
Drip Drip
I lie on the floor
With a blade in my hand.
My radio is tuned
To my favorite band
The very first cut,
I start tot bleed
One more cut,
Is all I need
The blood drips down
Onto the floor
As I get up
To lock the door
Who will miss me
When I die?
Who had wished
They’d said Good-bye?
It doesn’t matter
So why should I try
To continue with life
When I can just die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/28/2024 11:51:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
