My Kathicidal poems!

Dying, already bled out, half dead,

Enter my self-destructive world,

Sobbing droplets of blood as your soul is gouged out,

Through the hollow, empty walls of your bruised heart.

Run from yourself, but you can never hide for long.

Underneath a gravestone of reality, hope is dead and buried,

Can you ever save what little is left of your mind?

The answer to that is always "No."

The End

5 comments about this poem Feed