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| Open Poetry #1 |
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Dead |
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utopianangel New Member
since 1999-06-22
Posts 3Arizona |
As I slit my wrist Slowly and circumspect I wonder where I am going No where or somewhere People have their faiths I am not them Some men are givers Some women are lovers I am neither man nor woman Neither giver nor lover The razor blade is sharp Just as my smile This must make me happy, this one last adventure People have their indulences. Bring on the beer. Bring on the crack. Give me the razors. Since the slit; since the smile Blood drips, tears do not People contain blood, people contain feelings I am not them I am already dead- Buried in saddness ------------------ Rachel |
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