The life of a slasher
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Ill tell you of the life I once led, As you lay on your soft bed,
The need to feel pain, To see the crimson blood flow from my vein.
You tell me it is wrong, You tell me it is not wright,
But im the one that is there all alone, Im the one that has to fight.
And so its there, That silvery little square, it beckons to me, it makes me where, I seam to float to it,
as if I drift on air..... My hand shakes,
And I know of the pain that is yet to come,
But I draw that silver demon accross my arm,
I see the red line it makes,
There. The blood floes. The cut is done. But do I stop, as the blood makes it winding trail?
It is as if I am a baloon that needs to pop, But im affraid at that too I will fail.
The cuts have been made, The blood has shone, All the pain that once weighed,
Has been lifted and I am once again alone. But I know that it is there,
That little silver friend of mine, When no one else could give a care,
Ill make that cut Just one more time.........................