****morbid...do not enter****

skyeriverwinter

preface by saying..not a true tale...


13 deep slashes on her arm
blood pools on the floor
everywhere...
her only thought...
not deep enough
razor bloodied in her shaking hand
oddly no tears come
they dried up long ago
the pain pulses
more in her heart than her arm
stitches should be a thought
but no...no...
they will match the others
her face in the mirror
stares blankly back
a stranger to herself
a stranger to everyone
things change or so they say
but she has yet to see that
someone said
"...don't be sad...you never know what's around the corner..."
she ponders this...
but she does know what will not be...

voidofman

I like this, it can be a hard subject to write about since it's so personal and nobody really knows the reasons why.

I like this line:
stitches should be a thought

tremors

I always knew
When you came in
Sleeves rolled down
And rubbing your arms
What was coming next
A look
Then a can of red

skyeriverwinter

tremors wrote:

I always knew
When you came in
Sleeves rolled down
And rubbing your arms
What was coming next
A look
Then a can of red

a look ignored
an internal gnawing
please let it out
let it flow
the floor pushes
paints flowers
reflects arctic skies
winter in red
...is beautiful...

pandora

great writing skye

when I saw the title 'morbid...do not enter'
it struck deep, very very deep

on the flip side of the coin.... deep

My daughter has joined the forensic team at the local sheriffs dept as an intern,
today her first day.
Just spoke with her (then read your piece)
She says "Mama, hope there's something good "..... something good? :?
Sweet Jesus, she may change her mind on that.

I'm praying for baby steps for my baby
and innocence that still remains the same
somehow.

The most wounded are those left behind. Those left to clean up the mess.

tremors

skyeriverwinter wrote:

tremors wrote:

I always knew
When you came in
Sleeves rolled down
And rubbing your arms
What was coming next
A look
Then a can of red

a look ignored
an internal gnawing
please let it out
let it flow
the floor pushes
paints flowers
reflects arctic skies
winter in red
...is beautiful...

wow

I would like to carry on the writing, but I cannot here and now. Maybe in the future.....?