The perfect suicide

Death is cold
Death is above
But sometimes
Death is love.

Blood glistens
Like the morning dew
Blood comes out
Because of you.

Razors shine
In the pure white light,
Razors sharp
Perfect for flight.

Fallen Angel cuts
Fallen Angel bleeds
She stands alone
He's all she needs.

Fallen Angel screams
Fallen Angel cries
She can fly no more
So instead, she dies.

poem by Kelsey Joe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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