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Dead Thoughts
3 December, 2004
Author: Mike

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I bleed myself to sleep at night,
The pain in my head blocking out the light.
The bed sheets stained red with blood,
The mattress soiled with a scarlet flood.

People walking on the streets below,
Oblivious to the torturous flow.
My head drops down and sleep comes fast
And I dream of pain, hoping it lasts.

But it doesn't, and morning comes.
I lay in bed while my blood still runs
Across my pale skin and onto the bed,
While my eyes stare blindly at the back of my head.

The sun shines brightly on my face
Highlighting the bluish tinge through the curtain lace.
I try but fail to open my eyes.
"I'm dead," I suddenly realise.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Nicole (67.136.121.12) -- Monday, February 7 2005, 04:27 am

GREAT!!!

I love your poems...they always leave me speechless!!!!!!!!!
Nicole
joyce ivy (68.222.111.116) -- Monday, February 7 2005, 07:48 pm

mike

sometimes in our minds dead is better...for me anyway..great poem
blade (168.221.27.195) -- Monday, February 14 2005, 07:51 pm

!

i love all of you poems!!!!
Raimee (80.5.40.153) -- Monday, March 7 2005, 10:39 pm

...

"joyce ivy" YOU'RE NOT HELPING. Death = bad. Very, very bad.. Life = good. Sooner or later you'll realise this.. Right, Mike? :) Nice poem btw, altho it's a bit sad.
LBK (84.9.36.131) -- Saturday, March 12 2005, 12:32 am

...

Listen to Raimee. You go girl! *CLICK CLICK*. You remind me of me :|...
Mike (82.35.77.233) -- Tuesday, March 22 2005, 08:52 pm

Raims..

I think Joyce Ivy was only trying to say that some people feel better when they feel 'dead' inside. When they shut themselves away from the rest of the world, which is what I do quite often.
Raimee (80.5.40.153) -- Wednesday, March 23 2005, 11:12 pm

...

*smacks Mike's hand* No. NO. Bad, bad, bad. LBK.. We are a team, we stick together yeah? Mike, the word death is bad. Very bad.
 
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