bleed

4 Comments

Tags:
  • Angst
    • dragongarcia
    • Losing everything I loved but trying to keep going

    Poem Commentary

    when i felt the pain of not wanting to be anymore

    bleed

    I cut, I bleed

    As that blade cuts my skin

    I feel good, I am free

    But yet I hurt inside

    My heart is broken

    My soul is shattered

    Blood, rolls down my hand

    I start to feel numb

    I want to die

    I want to be free

    I a, cold, I am tired

    There is blood surrounding me

    Slowly draining my life

    I am alone, so alone

    No one cares, they never did

    With my last bit of strength

    I write “I loved him till the end’

    I cant see no more

    Darkness now holds me

    I am free of hurt

    Free of living

    Free to never bleed again

    Poem Comments

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    Elke commented on bleed

    06-17-2013

    A little too close for comfort. Can't hardly say it is a 'lovely' poem, but I can relate completely. There was a time when you were me.

    dragongarcia

    06/17/2013

    thank you, i was in a dark time of my life between family and the man i loved.

    Populous commented on bleed

    01-11-2011

    this was very visual...i loved the way it tells a story

    dragongarcia

    01/13/2011

    thank you. i was feelin down and i was reading a sad love story when i wrote this.

    Ash212 commented on bleed

    03-03-2010

    How verry sad. I can relate. : ) I mostly enjoyed this part: I am alone, so alone "No one cares, they never did With my last bit of strength I write “I loved him till the end’ I cant see no more" I really enjoyed it.

    dragongarcia

    03/15/2010

    its how i felt when me and my baby's dad were on some rocky grounds.

    inkmaster commented on bleed

    02-03-2010

    This one cuts deep..A nice write I enjoyed the verse you put down..A little on the dark side, but nothing wrong with that ,~,Inkmaster~...........

    dragongarcia

    02/11/2010

    thank you. its always up and down when it comes to my poetry. but its how i felt at the time i wrote it.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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