Author Information
Whoa Thats Sharp
Walking down the highway,
drinking from a bottle.
Blood pours from my arms,
where razors peirced skin.
Don't I deserve to die?
When does this end?
This is my life,
Now where is my knife?
Walking down the highway,
drinking from a bottle.
Blood pours from my arms,
where razors peirced skin.
Don't I deserve to die?
When does this end?
This is my life,
Now where is my knife?
I liked the way you built your piece. This is the way most people feel at some time in their lives. Great job.
I smoke as well. I pray, someday, they take them away.
Keep the faith.
Thanks.
Susan
well i've been there, done that, walking down the highway drinking from a bottle, blood pouring from my arms, so I can get inside that one. Been 30 years, but you don't forget moments like that, you always carry the scars both visible and invisible. I'm so grateful I don't have to feel like that anymore...all the wounds transformed themselves miraculously into gifts. Thank God I survived myself:-)