Why, my friend?
Alone in the woodsonly underwear on
bleeding from my wrists
all hope is gone
Let the pack of wolves
begin their feast
at least someone’s
gonna get good red meat
Feet in the gutter
my flesh torn out
I reach out my hand
but there’s no doubt
So write down these words
cause they’ll be my last
I’m not gonna come and
haunt you from the past
Still both of us know
it was all your fault
Poetry by kloot
Read 469 times
Written on 2006-11-27 at 23:04
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