the knife dance

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  • Sadness

    the knife dance

    I
    take the knife
    within my hand
    and I begin the dance
    The
    cold stell cuts
    into my skin slowy
    needing to take the pain away
    My
    mind is growing crazy
    my soul is growing dark
    the cold tired stone that was my heart
    The
    blood drips from my arm
    it is warm but starts turning cold
    not know what to do

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    UntrueSelf’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    FLY IN MY DREAMS 0
    this time 0
    the knife dance 0
    snake dance 0
    Taking Over 0
    You don't know me 1
    You Are 1
    Somewhere Else Tonight 1