when your lips treble and you talk weird
i no your scared
the dried blood on my wrists isnt for you
My tear stained shirt and dirty clothes
and my rotting soul is from your heart and your guilt
My smeared makeup on your fist isnt a presnet for me i guess
but your prayers to god that want me dead
make me deased with suicide
not another case of serial killer friendsy but a mass murder from your mouth to my neck
let me no when you want me again and ill consider my love
My dear please dont get mad,
the blood dripping from my wrist is all yours
cuz when you drag that damn razor along my life,
i no i hurt you wrong.
Author notes
Written April 16th, 2006
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