S ( / NYC)

Font Color=' 000000' Sitting On The Edge

The way in
the manner
I find myself
run so wild
on self I think
like no others

The edge I so push back
pull unto me once so again
mood swings can happen
so fast

Pills in bottles
look to me so

Delight respite
from the pain
I so feel

Alcohol mixed with that
sane person may none
be my room

Is such haven
comfort my port
suffering inside
they abort

Comfort me so
thus this you know

Sharp cutting edge
stainless steal
sharpened metal

Has been a friend to
thousands throught
dawn age of time
take me not

Just searching
for Comfort

How Will I Know
I will not so start to cut
a better horrid world
will I make nor

all I have to do is go deeper
I can do it
watch I’ll fail at this as well
I start cutting
but then I wonder
is truly not existing
better than living in pain
no its not
so I stop there
I get up place all that can danger me in a locked box
I lay back down
fighting back tears
until I realize I have no reason to hold them in
even if anyone hears
they do not care
they never come and check
as to why I am crying
so here I lay
upon my bed of tissues
covered in tears
both bled and shed

User Rating: 3,8 / 5 ( 6 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

i like this poem its very good
Whoah. This poem is amazingly written. And very true.