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Please help me, I call but no one answers My voice is shouted, but never returned My pain, so harsh it lights the sky But still the question why? I use a knife it feels so nice, not pain! But like an ice; so cool and clear, not like my life! The blade slips so easily along the lines, those favourite lines to stations I know, where only friends can go , the friend that I feel never leave! The warning is not so clear, the roads aren’t long the ambulance will travel on. But still no one answers, the voice not returned. They saved my life again, but left my soul behind, Will it ever find me, perhaps it would knife me! What do I call? Perhaps just to an end. What do I say, poetry is my new knife! But it only cuts one way, Never replies in kind, But at least the ambulance no more came. Perhaps this wont save my life but will give my soul a life, Perhaps my life will now knife my soul, or will they learn to survive. Perhaps my voice has returned, In poetic words of a lost soul who no more shall die alone. |