100,000 Razorblades

Another poem from the deathly mind of D.E. Athly.

I drag a thousand razorblades
Across my wrists
As you drag a thousand more
Across my heart.

How stupid was I
To believe you would not hurt me?

You have plagued my every thought
And ripped out of me,
My heart.

Tear it to shreds and toss it to the ground;
Spit on it and be done with me.

Two thousand razorblades I have suffered,
But not a single one more.

Stop your hurting of me
And let me breathe.

I have suffered a hundred-thousand razorblades over you.