I kept "Finding it (was) too hard" to keep murking through this:
Suicide, the Blade, doggerled yet true, constitute not the poetic lisp.
And weeps,
Goes home,
And sleeps,
Wakes up,
And she goes over the,
Scars again and again,
That cruel word,
Trinity wrote:1st of all this poem isn't about me
2nd of all i wrote this poem when i was about 11 and
3rd of all i know i have to change it up a little but like i said
not about me, and i was 11 but thank you for telling me what you think. this poem is 2 or 3 years old probley from when i have just started writing so it wont be that good but it will get better
Becomes a river of red,
The blade cuts through her skin.