The Blade That Wouldn’t Cut
The past of this man, with a capsule blade in his hand
Hard for one to understand the pain he has went through
To live the life of a being, whose whole life has been bland?
But who knew, today his day’s end could possibly pursue
His troubles kept piling on one another, making it hard
For his brain to function correctly as hours kept passing
He goes to rehab; it only mocks the pain, scabs start to scar
As feelings commence, frustration and hatred remain clashing
If he had one wish, I’d be to get rid of this, and he can soon
With a deadly sip, with water in his glass, the pill is gone
Of course he knew what he did; he’ll be luck to last till noon
This poet seeks help, his pen and paper will help him move on
I’m dieing, I miss
My life, no longer exist
This thing, killing me
Within, did I commit a sin?
My rip cage aches
Lord forgive my mistakes
And why I do this
I regret it, I now fall abyss.
He awakens, losing all memory to where he was found last
Lost track of time, his name, and everything else in this world
Brain fried, know why? No clue where he was, forgotten past.
On top of all this, his body dismantled, suchlike it’s been hurled
Was this the work of an angel? The dose should have killed
Hells gates must have been full, and the heavens are filled
Or was it just luck? The pill should have just killed him, but
This crazy setting would be known, as the blade that wouldn’t cut