A/n: Stay Untitled IS the title of the poem... I'm not sure why, but it felt right...


The blades in my hands are bleeding.
Scratching further than the surface...
Deeper in the blade goes cutting...
So it's time to throw me away in a furnace...

I feel like a blank book whose pages ate frayed and torn...
Because you know I'll be dying soon...
So dig my grave and start to mourn...
And let my face disappear like the new moon.