Razorblades And Greneades Poem by Tiff Murphy

Take it one step a day,
That is what they say,
But do they know the pain of not having your unborn child,
Do they know the pain of finding the one only to have your heart stomped upon,
As you watch all of the tiny pieces fall to the ground,
Razorblades and grenades make a pretty picture to me,
How can the stars shine so bright but yet everyday is still my misery,
Shattered silence erupts into convulsionist tears,
As another angel appears to take away another one who I thought cared,
Razorblades and grenades make a pretty picture to me,
The blood starts to dry on my clothes,
As I fight the conflict of pain just to make another scar,
That's how it goes when you have a deep dark soul,
Razorblades and grenades make a pretty picture to me,
Before I go I will tell you this,
You are the one that I will miss,
But the cuts are too severe to stop,
Where was my hero when I needed one the most?
Razorblades and grenades make a pretty picture to me,
Yes, Razorblades and grenades sure do make a pretty picture to me.