Red-Stained Slate

Wipe me blank.
Pull my spirit away from me.
Erase me from each life I've touched.
I'm scraping the surface of the monster within.
It's bloodthirsty.
I've fed it; clean my slate.
Scabs cover me and I scratch to bleed.
It pours like a fountain and-
My touch stains red.
Give me a reason to fight
And allow me to fight to my death.
Wipe me blank. Bury me quietly.
I beg you, forget it ever was here.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741