i should slit my wrist
hold it to gods lips and say,
"taste this"

taste this blood of your child
withering beneath the sunlight
tearing at the black night
screaming for her vengence
crying for a soft kiss.
longing for whats lost again
as she scratches at her eyes again
grinds teeth in her sleep again.
writing about truth in her hate again.

I try to stay calm sometimes.
talking pretty colored words
while i put a noose around my neck
Maybe if i stay nice i wont have to slay me
i wont have to be me
i wont have to see me.
i wont have to let anyone love me

no one should love me
i drop love like beautiful vase
and im my own twisted way
the shattered glass
is just as beautuful as whole piece
the pieces strewn like tears
across a hardwood floor
i sit amung them and
touch each piece to my wrist
thinking of what they mean to me
and what i wish that i could be
a piece, a piece that fit
amung a vase that creates
something beautiful no matter
wether whole or broken.
i wish i could be something beautiful

here i sit staring at my wrist again
thinking of my heart again.
and how it beats. in and out
so automatically
and what it would sound like.
as it pushed blood out of my wrist.
on to gods lips.
as he turns away.
whispers this isnt my child.
this is a stray.
cast her away.
and what would my heart sound like.
as i opened my mouth to say im sorry.
but its to late.
my heart
my head
my love
everything
stopped.