The Slaughter Poem by India Wallace

The blade is dark
Damp and stained
With the remains of yesterdays purging

Hated
Jaded
So alone
No place to call home
Nothing to love
Except the cool steel of the knife

Trying to be someone else
Was harder than it seemed
The mask was pulled to tightly
Cracks started to show

This life,
This slaughter
Is too much to handle
So now she takes her leave

Her body hangs limply
Feet skimming the ground
Her bloodshot eyes
Convey a feeling of hopelessness

A blood soaked note
Flutters to the ground
And through the dripping liquid
Black spiky words form

'I can't live with this pain that i feel everyday
Don't tell me everythings going to be ok
Because it's not ok
Nothing is ok
Forget every word
That I've ever said
Now i'm being prefectly honest,
And i'd rather be dead'