Ganska lång dikt
I gently pick up the knife from the kitchen drawer.
Slowly I step into the hot water in the bath tub.
I stare into the white tiles on the wall
and I wonder how they look like if they were red.
With a quick snap, I cut my left wrist open
I smear the blood over the tiles and laugh to myself
More blood, I think to myself as I put the knife to my throat
I wake up screaming, all sweaty
When I sought comfort by my love, you were not there
The bed was made and you had not sleept by me tonight
The light from the bathroom was stil lit at this late hour
I slowly opened the door and expected you to sit there smiling
The sorrow I felt when I saw the white tiles with the blood on them
It was not I who had laughed and cut myself, it was you
Slowly I step into the hot water in the bath tub.
I stare into the white tiles on the wall
and I wonder how they look like if they were red.
With a quick snap, I cut my left wrist open
I smear the blood over the tiles and laugh to myself
More blood, I think to myself as I put the knife to my throat
I wake up screaming, all sweaty
When I sought comfort by my love, you were not there
The bed was made and you had not sleept by me tonight
The light from the bathroom was stil lit at this late hour
I slowly opened the door and expected you to sit there smiling
The sorrow I felt when I saw the white tiles with the blood on them
It was not I who had laughed and cut myself, it was you
Kommentarer
Postat av: Anonym
You are a giant faggot, go kill yourself. Your poetry sucks giant donkey peen.
Postat av: Andreas
Jag har aldrig sagt att mina dikter är bra. Det är bara ett sätt att få ur mig mina känslor. Jag tvinger inte någon att läsa dem eller att tycka om dem. Dock vill jag se dig skriva bättre själv om du nu tycker att jag är så dålig
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