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place to store poems and ideas

poems, begginings of storys

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I slam my door and grab a knife I slit my wrist to end my life I cut again, down the vain I hate my life, so i forget the pain The blood drips down, staining the floor I rub my eyes until there sore Grab the knife and slice open my throat I hope they throw me in a moat Today I die, but dont feel sorrow For the night will bring a better tommorow

Posted by: kumori2005 Wed Jan 11, 2006 @ 11:51pm

"Ive got a jar of dirt, I've got a jar of dirt and guess what's inside it"
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my puppy empress

User Comments: [4] [add]

Heretical Disciple
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Commented on: Thu Feb 09, 2006 @ 11:55am


	Well ain't we cheerfull heart

Commented on: Fri Feb 10, 2006 @ 11:54pm


	Sadness.

SerratedSprinkles
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Shahmirzadi
Community Member

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Commented on: Sat Feb 11, 2006 @ 12:20am


	I'm not so much a fan of this work....

Commented on: Sat Feb 11, 2006 @ 12:21am


	These are very depressing!

soopspoon
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User Comments: [4] [add]

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