October 26, 2009

Sorry doesn't cut it,
but the razorblade does.
Words just can't describe.
how it feels to watch the blood.

 

It trickles down my wrist,
to form the pool in my left hand.
My hourglass is broken,
and I'm running out of sand.

 

My breathing get's much shallower,
my beating heart slows.
What does it take to realize
It's not my time to go.

 

My endless fear of waking up,
keeps me behind closed doors.
And everytime that I get up,
I fall back to the floor.

 

I'm so tired of trying,

to be something I'm not.

I'll put the gun up to my brain,

hope its a silent shot.

Reviews

[Charles D. Moorer]

Sorry doesn't cut it, but the razorblade does. if you had written no more lines but this one, you would have succeeded wildly.

[bluessadmood]

what a lovely write,dear Tessa,how dreamy ,how calm and quiet yet filled with explosive emotions..
Sorry is not the right word..its the blade that does it all..
words will never tell..how it feels to see all this blood..
running down my wrist..will pool under my feet
my hourglass is broken and i am running out of sand
breathing gets slow and shallow,my heart beat slows
and it feels and i realize..its not my time to go
and i am filled with fear ,keeps me behind closed doors
everytime i try to get up..i feel back to the floor
what sad write ,hopeless ,i could see ,very tender emotion i could see
you give heart and life to every word,how i enjoyed this ..
its really great to read your writings..though its sad
lovely write..