Blood Spatter

Blood Spatter

A Poem by ShantaeMarlinda
"

Don't ask me why I'm emotionally scarred. Just love me enough to deal with my self-destructive method of coping with it.

"

Save your inquiries, now’s not the time,

Just clean it up,

But don’t you dare judge me.

You’ve NO right,

You’d never understand,

Hell, you don’t even know me.

And you couldn’t if you tried.

 

Clueless to what these wounds are screaming.

Ignorant of the secrets these scars are keeping.

But it’s better that you don’t know.

 

Just clean it up, don’t ask any questions,

Cause I can’t think of answers right now.

Don’t antagonize me, don’t patronize me,

Don’t pretend you can empathize.

Just shut your mouth

Because YOU. DON’T. KNOW. S**T

About the thoughts swirling in my head.

The angst shooting through my veins,

Tainting my nerves,

Leaving me half passed dead.

 

Just keep cleaning it up,

As I keep cutting away at the baggage that clings to my body,

Like leeches sucking the life out of me.

Just keep cleaning it up,

As I keep bleeding it out,

Until there’s nothing left.

 

If love knows no bounds,

How much blood shed will you stick around for?

© 2010 ShantaeMarlinda


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

THE VINDICATION OF THE PLOT LINES JUST GOES WITH THIS ONE...I LIKE THE VOICE IN THE VERSE...REALLY GRABS YOU AS A READER AND THE LINE YOU DON'T KNOW S**T...COMES AT A RIGHT TIME IN THE WRITE AND YOU JUST CONTINUE TO BLEED OUT FOR ALL ITS WORTH TO THE END OF THIS READ...AND THIS WITH LAST LINES:

If love knows no bounds,
How much blood shed will you stick around for?




Posted 7 Years Ago



Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

1219 Views
1 Review
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on December 7, 2010
Last Updated on December 7, 2010

Author

ShantaeMarlinda
ShantaeMarlinda

Chesapeake, VA



About
So here's the skinny! I was born to write. BORN to write. I popped out of the womb with a pen, pad and laptop. My mother's vagina would never be the same after that fateful day. But this isn't about h.. more..

Writing