PiratesAhoy
Posts: 19
Joined: 3/24/2012 Status: offline
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I originally wrote this poem in 2007, and it honestly came out of the blue during my Sophomore year. I like to think I wrote it for a certain family member that I was very close to whom died when I was 10. It really hit me hard, so something in me made me write this. I warn you it does contain blood, possible violence, slight self injury, and general angst. Comments are welcome, and criticism is deeply appreciated. The Little Girl Made of Blood Don't forget to make it count Take you knife and cut it out Think back to how it all got started And then cut deeper to keep out the horror Watch the blood pour from your scars And then look around and see the bars Good little girl, papa's little girl Isolated in her own little word Death can be scary But something else can be worse And knowing your loved one died without a word Can leave you in a place, that no one deserves Everyone shouting, everyone screams All the little girl can do is drop to her knees She turns around and sees others smiling And wonders how they can seem so inviting With her world crumbled, her heart gunned down She couldn't do anything but sit down and frown The others stare, they don't understand Their worlds are still on balanced land This little girl, has grown through the years But nothings changed and the tears still appear She changed schools, got back some health But still she feels like she's living in Hell Each day she tries each day she dreams each day she remembers that hazy, old dream She doens't want to try, She doesn't want to dream, She doesn't want to remember She just wants to let it all be But each day comes, and each day ends And all she can do is go with this trend So she closes her eyes, counts to ten And lets the blood flow from her hands and hopes that no one can hurt her again.
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