About

About Brea?
Uhm..get to know her.
She sucks at writing poetry.
Don't believe me?

The razor shines through the night,
Your eyes twinkle with that light.
The metal, cool and hard you feel,
Just to make sure life is real.
Scarlet blood with every scratch,
A bandage over every patch.
Running the blade across your wrist,
You just can't see what will come of this.
Soon a vein will slice too deep,
Your eyes will haze, you'll want to sleep.
Your heart will slow much too fast,
And life and death will start to clash.
Dark and light, nothing makes sense,
But your desires begin to quench.
All of this is happening now,
And you can't help but wonder how..
How they'll feel once you've died,
Realization spreading wide.
Something great has happened to you,
A thought like this should've never come true.
Your body's laying on the floor,
The crimson liquid falls no more.
Upon the ground, drenched you lay,
Wondering what they'll all say.
Shapeless tears rim your eyes,
A stuttering scream breaks your cries.
That silent bell rings your ears,
Death was accomplished, you left your fears.
"I want to go back," it's what you yell,
Afraid to face your eternal hell..


Well there's your proof. Comment on it if you'd like, not terribly concerned with what you think though, no offence. =] I can be either really nice, or a really big jerk, depending on you yourself. Usually nice though. Jerky-ness is bad. Uhm..that's all i really have to say for the moment. So, bye.