Drip <br />Drip, Drip. <br />Plush, <br />Plush. <br />Listen as the it flows <br />down my arm <br />and lands on the tile <br />that now runs red <br />with my blood. <br />Watch as it flows down <br />my arm from the cut. <br />Deep and painless. <br />As the crimson color tints <br />my flesh I look into the <br />mirrow and see <br />someone I don't know. <br />A girl, someone who is pretty, <br />kind, sweet, and has no pain. <br />I smash the image causing <br />more crimson cuts, that begin <br />to add to the flow from the <br />wound above. <br />I watch as things begin <br />to make sense. <br />As things begin to spin <br />and turn right side up. <br />As I lay on the ground I think. <br />I think of all that was done <br />to me, done to them, <br />but what does it matter now. <br />It is all over. <br />Oh look things are <br />now darkening, <br />soon I'll not be able to see. <br />I'll lay in the blood <br />that once filled my living body. <br />Wondering what could have <br />been different and what was. <br />And now with my last breaths <br />I'll say I loved him with <br />all my heart and...... <br />Gone!<br /><br />Kelsea Osterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/red-73/
