The Beat Of Death Poem by Christina J. Williams
The Beat Of Death
She made her mind up.
When she slit her wrist.
No one could have helped her,
But just cry and stare at her bloody wrist.
Her heart is now cold just like the rest of her body.
The only beating being heard,
Is the sound of the coffin being lowered into the ground.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
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4/26/2024 5:49:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
