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Knives

Serrated blades never felt so thin,
remember paper-cuts with a odd grin.
So this one cuts,
and it actually hurts.
With a chilling touch,
pain grabs the clutch.
This is impossible,
its sent me to the hospital!
Why is it so different.
Sharpness? Force? Or emotion?
Feelings morph into what we do,
and they ask why do we feel so blue?
But the knives, never made me thrive.
So what sinks into are minds,
ignoring thing we must learn to find.
So are we, dust in the air?
Burning memories, and taring photos.
Wonder why I made such a phantom,
Half of them only care, cause they think I'm handsome.
Ex, oh,ex, oh, we love you crows!





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

LucyInTheSky This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Dec. 29, 2011 at 4:46 pm
there were a few typos and grammar mistakes that were a little confusing, but this is beautifully written, creating a vivid picture! I couldn't believe no one had commented on it yet! keep writing :)
 
JohnW replied...
Dec. 29, 2011 at 5:32 pm
Thank you so much! I will never stop writing, heheh. :)
 
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