Copyright, Spyda

I pick up the blade, it’s so sharp and cold. It shines when it’s held to the light, all my pain it does hold. I’m so alone I feel it burning. The pain leaves me as I lie here and bleed, through my blood I escape, everything leaves me it all goes away erases my pain but it tears right through me again. The blade’s on the floor, it’s right beside me covered in blood from where I’ve set myself free. Slowly it stops so I reach for it again. Bleeding me, freeing my soul. Kill me it will, but caring I don’t know.


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