wet sobby soaking lot of someone else’s lies <br />I cry for the reason now I sit here and die <br />Trying to remember the time I was happiest <br />The tears have clouded over and the thin red blood line dries <br />The gut ranching feeling that all is meant to die <br />The greatest artist that is someone else’s cry <br />The loss of all I feel gone numb inside <br />Watching the red gush again from the thin straight line <br />Caused by nothing else but the pain I feel inside <br />The death and destruction my body seems to take <br />Puts you all to shame cause I still refuse to die <br />The thought of you all winning <br />While I sit in my cell <br />My own little prison built from my own little hell <br />The rubbing of my wrist against this perfect blade <br />Is the feeling of release, the gushing of the pain <br />The sick twisted looks I get for what I do <br />Lost amongst the thoughts that I cut myself, it's true <br />The looks I cop when my wrist is clean and clear. <br />The thought of what someone else would do whispers in my ear <br /> The crushing of the good little me never took place <br />There was no good in me, I never was a saint <br /> The cuts straight down my wrist never turned to scars <br />The best place in my life, which I never realised <br />I can get away with it and nobody can see the sight <br />Of my troubles bubbling over and coming into view <br />The sight of my arms if you could see what I have done <br />The thought of what would happen to me, already been there once <br />In the loony bin once before <br />I’d kill myself then for sure <br />Couldn’t handle it again <br />The tool someone sent me surely can be used <br />But in others view what I do <br />Is lost to the thought of me as a sinner <br />Someone who can be saved <br />They haven’t learnt yet <br />I do all I can, this is just the life for me, <br />That me, myself, I made.<br /><br />Nicky Turner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sinner-i-have-made/
