Dried Blades
The blood's no longer Dripping from my open sores The ache's dried down In my mind And in my soul Hopefuly the stench Of my wretched body Cannot be detached from the floors before Though even if it were The tenents would just move Instead of investigating And finding my body Lying here In the midst of all these wires And these stain-dried blades Written March 27th, 2002 © on Mar 27 2002 03:10 AM PST 0 • 1
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"The blood's no longer..."