2am on Marlborough Ave By Michelle Dee

The knife where is the knife? My knife my knife Gotta cut gotta cut. See the blood then I'm alive Running red, running free Running scared away from me.

That window's open, the Curtain drawn once again. What poor creature lies shaking with-in Then, it was I screaming behind glass Now I scream silent, cold at last. How can it be standing there? Side by side with another White window frames peeling Just like all the others. Why do I want to peer inside? Try the handle to the door when Before I made good my escape. Now I'm back outside watching in wait Would I run and hide, if he came outside, if a face appeared at the glass? Would I stare back? Defiant Eyes held fast.

Look upon this place with Fresh eyes and know The horrors inside are Never on show. For this house Holds a secret of vengeful lust Echoing cries remain till Both are buried, beneath dust. Where is she, where is she? Why doesn't she come home? She shouldn't be out there All on her own. She has to stop cutting She must she must. Why does she hate Herself so much?

Gotta cut gotta cut Jus gotta cut Gotta cut gotta cut I hurt so much. Run to my side too late As I lie dying. Bloodstained angels Protecting me with wings spread wide bringing Everlasting peace, now I lay me down to sleep.

Copyright © Michelle Dee Sept 2004

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