I wake up in the morning to the cold morning breeze.
I feel the loneliness and desperation clinging to my breath.
I walk up to my dresser and find a razor in sight.
I take it and hold it to my wrist only to feel the cold sharp sting of the blade. Suddenly I realize that one cut could not save me from the bondage of self.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
a depressed teen
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