HappenEnding

The ink of my pen is my blood. Every drop heals my wound. Even though you can tie my body but you can't tie my soul...I write what I want to write... no sugar coats,no romanticism... what I say is what I feel...I can't just talk about the pretty things in life. There's a lot of ugly things and in betweens. I think age is making me more honest and comfortable with my thoughts.

Wednesday, 30 April 2014

That day

They watch you cry.
You pull out your knife. 
They left you feeling like you could die.
You feel like it's time to end your life.

You cut your wrists.
You change your mind you crawl to the door.
You should've never done this.
The blood pours.

You scream for help.
No one hears.
You sit there,you whimper and yelp.
Finally,no more tears .

They had their time to play.
They will never forget what they caused you to do that day...

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