I want to slit my throat open

and let the anguish gush out

until I am empty and not distraught.



Drain me of my pain

as I slowly succumb to death

and I bet

It will feel so good to finally be sane.



My blood is contaminated by melancholy

yearning

for something eternally.



The red on my chest

is not of virginal shyness

but of pain I was condemned to harvest.



Let it out

let it spill

until I cannot shout.



A woman, once a girl

with weeping eyes

cursed with woe.


I cannot escape my fated death

for no matter how hard I try

I will one day rest in its depth.
© WeepingWillow