PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I set in my corridors all by myself with my razorblade in hand

I take it against my flesh the blood drips to the floor forming a puddle.

Locked away yet delightfully happy I cut myself for the fun for the thrill

Hundreds of times have I done this yet somehow I am still alive.

Being left alone by myself for so long I start to wonder what is real,

Are theses creatures and strange things I see a part of my dreams or reality?

I hear footsteps approaching my door what do them loons want of me?

I am not ill; I have no problems it is they who should be locked in here.

My only want is to chop off their heads after feeding them their torn out insides

I shudder at this thought and feel remorse for what I have come to.

Once again I take the razor against my skin and feel the blood trickle down,

The room around me starts to grow faint and blurry.

The light I see it yes very clear to me I walk towards the light,

For I wonder what is in store for me past it what wonders I will run into

Finally I am set free of the hell I have been kept in for so long.