Sunday, September 04, 2005

Time Upon A Once

Sing a song of suicide,
A pocket full of lies.
Four and twenty reasons
To forever close your eyes.
When your wrists were opened,
The world began to fade.
Wasn't that a dainty death;
Blood on a razor blade?
The clock ticked on decisively,
Counting out your minutes.
The stereo fell silent;
The song, like you, was finished.
Blood spilled on the bathroom floor,
Staining red your clothes.
Too late, when you had regrets,
But that's the way it goes.
It is never too late to be what you might have been

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