A poem written during my high school days. Misunderstood and alone. Thank the Goddess I grew out of that quickly!
I thrust my hands into the bowl of rusty razor blades.
Feeling they dull teeth bite deep into my flesh.
The bowl cracks and I stand and watch/listen to
the steady drip, drip, drip of my life liquid as it
leaves the side of the bowl. I feel sorry for the bowl.
It was just doing its job.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
