The clock strikes 3, three times
Every time it chimes, sends shivers down my spine
Time passing even as I sit still
Trying to smother the urge to kill
Close my eyes that fill blood red
Sneak around whilst everyone's in bed
Slowly fill the bath until it reaches brim
Remove all my clothes before stepping in
Lower myself gently as regrets wash away
Realisation that there is no other way
Further down until your head is submerged
Evil grin, given in to that sinful urge
Memories rush from baby birth day one
To present and the last time you saw the sun
But imagery of Mother's tears from second born's death
Forces you up to take another breath
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
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