Array ( [sid] => 19774 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Withered and Dying [time] => 2003-07-01 13:05:00 [hometext] => * I wrote this a while ago and I found it while I was cleaning out my old e-mail address. I don't think I've posted it before.* [bodytext] => Why does my heart still beat?
Lost so much blood
Lost my voice from screaming as well
Forgotten, and hung out to dry, like a piece of meat
Can you see the pain and angst
In my eyes?
No my eyes are too cloudy
From all the drugs pumped into me

My body is cut open
Congealed, brown blood clogs up my pores
My mind is set to automatic cut
I stand in front of the mirror
Unable to stop
Finding places to cut
I never thought existed
These demons I cry out to
Won't give me any ***** clemency

Yet, still I 'live' and breathe
Somehow I tramp forward
Put on a stage, forced to sing
For your pleasure
Put on a stage, forced to sing
For your pleasure

The cuts the bigger they are
The more attention they get
My eyes search like a viper's tongue
And I'm held mesmerized,
Spell-bound by these deep cuts
I can't find a vein
I can't die
What a tragic joke

This has taken up many chapters of my life,
But I've begun to get sick,
Sick of forcing my eyes open
Sick of taking another step,
Sick of forcing myself to take another breathe
Just to see your smile
Maybe soon my life will decide its had enough
And like a frail flower
Starved of sunlight
Will wither away and die [comments] => 5 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 32 [informant] => bobotheclown [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Withered and Dying


Withered and Dying
Date: Tuesday, 1st July 2003 @ 01:05:00 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: bobotheclown
Why does my heart still beat?
Lost so much blood
Lost my voice from screaming as well
Forgotten, and hung out to dry, like a piece of meat
Can you see the pain and angst
In my eyes?
No my eyes are too cloudy
From all the drugs pumped into me

My body is cut open
Congealed, brown blood clogs up my pores
My mind is set to automatic cut
I stand in front of the mirror
Unable to stop
Finding places to cut
I never thought existed
These demons I cry out to
Won't give me any ***** clemency

Yet, still I 'live' and breathe
Somehow I tramp forward
Put on a stage, forced to sing
For your pleasure
Put on a stage, forced to sing
For your pleasure

The cuts the bigger they are
The more attention they get
My eyes search like a viper's tongue
And I'm held mesmerized,
Spell-bound by these deep cuts
I can't find a vein
I can't die
What a tragic joke

This has taken up many chapters of my life,
But I've begun to get sick,
Sick of forcing my eyes open
Sick of taking another step,
Sick of forcing myself to take another breathe
Just to see your smile
Maybe soon my life will decide its had enough
And like a frail flower
Starved of sunlight
Will wither away and die

This poem is Copyright © bobotheclown


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