Jordan Border

18 Sep, 2014 04:12 AM
two, three, four,
here I sit on the floor
You laugh and walk away
Not knowing today's the day
That I leave you all in dust
And take the knife lined with rust
I start out thin and go so slow
Tonight the blood will stain the snow
And I'll leave all to face the sun
Now tomorrow your sins will weigh a ton 
goodnight cruel life
Out of my hand now slips the knife
Tags: Emo, Cutting, Death
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Zaynah says:
17 Mar, 2015 09:54 PM

Omg I love the poem^^

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mercedes says:
12 Apr, 2015 06:59 PM

I'm loving the way ths poem speaks to me

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