Friday, September 19, 2008


Slowly descending,
Cold and deceitful,
I see them so clearly
In the moonlit sky.
The blades of death,
The shining crystal,
It rubs against my skin.
I don't feel pain,
Just coldness of the dark,
The chill of early morning dew.
It's the blood that I feel flowing.
It's life the I keep swallowing.
Release me from the grips of death.
It holds me so...
I can no longer breathe,
Please let me go...

By: Alisa Popova

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