Saturday, May 3, 2008

Poetry - Escape










Escape

I sit in pain and misery,
locked away in my own penitentiary
My sentence is death, if you get the best of me.

I'd like to cut my veins out
Let the pain run out
I can't find a blade
My scars run deep
So deep, I can't find sleep.

It's like I'm speeding
Running around like a demon.

My past is coming at me in flashes.
My future holds nothing in store,
All I can cry is Dear God, why?

By: Nicole Hutchins - July 2003

No comments: