Poem By Rony Smith

I sit here slicing alone in my room,
With every cut I get closer to my doom,
My hands turning white,
The floor turning red,
My eyes losing focus,
My heart feeling dead,
My hearing fades,
My head hits the floor,
My blood begins to run under the door,
I see faint shadows,
And hear sharp screams,
The room turns black,
And things are what they seem,
I feel them shake me and tell me to stay,
With the last beat of my heart I say goodbye,
To world that caused me so much pain.

Comments about Cuts

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of SMITH


As I lay on the floor
Heart broken in ten
I look for a sign
I look for a friend


My eyes full of tears
And my heart broken in two
Stuck hear drowning
Not knowing what to do


They hurt me
They hate me
They love me too
They stab me