Knives and blades all the same
One slash, two slashes, three slashes your all up in flames
Eager to hunt, eager to kill
One push into the rain, I start to become ill
These cuts that bind my wrist do me no good
As I wonder in deep thought 'will I suceed? '
I ask you to save me even though I knew you would
But will I follow thy's edvice or will I flee?
Jonathan Kjaer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bound-wrists/
