I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
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Comments about this poem (On Purpose by Kylee Bartz )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
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