The Day I Died

I spot the knife on the table
I slowly float over to it
Picking it up, feeling the cool blade
knowing it will pierce my skin soon

My hand quivering
my fingers lingering
gripping the handle
ready for the pain

Taking one last glance
looking for witnesses
no one is around
I look back down

I place it on my skin
cold to the touch
I press hard as I grit my teeth
I feel the warmth of the blood run down my arm

I cry out in pain
and tears fill my eyes
and that was the way I felt,
the day I died inside

This poem was written/submitted by Carli Finley.

(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

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