Before we jump into this jumble of things, I am here to give you a warning. This contains drugs, knives, self-harm, suicide, murder, and other sensitive content. It may or will cause you mental distress if you read through it all, and If you're fine at the end please leave me a comment about it, and this is Very long Anyways, on to the jumble of poems.




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here is The first one

The Razor’s Whisper

I hear the pills calling, a lullaby of dread,
Each one a promise, each one a thread.
A thread that will bind me, wrap me in lies,
Whispering sweetly, “This is how it dies.”

They crawl down my throat, cold and slow,
Suffocating thoughts, burying what I know.
The knife waits patiently, like an old friend,
Its edge is the truth, sharp and without end.

I stare at my skin, fragile, paper-thin,
Wondering how easy it would be to sink in.
The blade hums softly, begging to play,
To carve out the silence, to take me away.

I drag it gently, just a teasing touch,
The pain is familiar, but never too much.
Not yet. I want to savor the sting,
The control I feel, the chaos it brings.

But then it slips—deep, deeper than before,
Suddenly, it’s no longer a game, it’s a war.
The blood spills fast, faster than I planned,
It pools at my feet, staining my hands.

I laugh, but the sound is hollow and thin,
A dark symphony playing beneath my skin.
My brain twists the pain, warps it to joy,
A sick pleasure in the life I destroy.

The gun sits heavy, cold in my grip,
Its weight a reminder of my final trip.
I wonder, if I pull, will it be real?
Will it silence the screams I no longer feel?

The thought spins circles, tight in my chest,
Like a bullet ricocheting, never finding rest.
I imagine the hole it would leave behind,
A piece of me missing, but no one would mind.

I touch the trigger, but hesitate,
Not because of fear, but something more innate.
A craving, an urge to keep myself alive,
Just long enough to see how long I can survive.

I plunge the knife back in—this time for keeps,
Watching my body unravel, as the terror creeps.
Each cut feels like freedom, but tastes like despair,
A twisted love affair with the devil’s snare.

I hear the reaper, but he’s not a man—
He’s my own reflection, part of my plan.
He smiles, but his face is my own,
A mirror of madness, seeds I’ve sown.

I beg him to end it, to silence the storm,
But he just watches, amused by my form.
He lets me writhe, lets me bleed,
Feeding on my every need.

The drugs are screaming now, crawling in my brain,
I feel them like spiders, weaving webs of pain.
They pull at my thoughts, twist every word,
Until reality becomes something absurd.

I see myself dying, but I’m still here,
Trapped in a loop of terror and fear.
Every cut, every shot, is just another layer,
A deeper descent into my own nightmare.

There’s no escape, no final release,
Only the madness, a never-ending feast.
The reaper laughs, but it’s my voice I hear—
I am the monster. I am the fear.


If you enjoyed that first one please leave a comment about it and your opinion anyways on to the second one


Carnage in Silence

Pills scatter like shattered teeth on the floor,
I choke down the poison, begging for more.
Each swallow is agony, each breath a scream,
Twisting in shadows, trapped in a nightmare’s dream.

The knife is my lover, cold steel to skin,
Its jagged kiss pulls, sinking deeper within.
Flesh splits wide with a sickening tear,
Veins gush like fountains, painting the air.

I carve through my body, the meat comes apart,
Tissue torn, like I'm peeling my heart.
The muscles unravel, exposed and grotesque,
Bones crack beneath the weight of distress.

Blood pours in torrents, thick rivers of red,
A macabre display of a life that’s near dead.
Fingers trembling, I dig through the mess,
Peeling away skin like a grotesque caress.

The gun’s hollow eye stares into my soul,
A thunderous roar, and it takes its toll.
The shot shreds through bone, splintering skull,
Brains ooze out, the world turns dull.

The walls drip with gore, splatters of death,
I gag on the stench of my final breath.
The bullet’s impact leaves flesh blown apart,
An explosion of horror, ripping through heart.

Needles twist in my veins, venom and fire,
Corroding my insides with death’s desire.
My eyes roll back as my skin starts to rot,
Maggots inside me, squirming in knots.

The cuts on my wrists scream louder than words,
Muscle sliced open, exposed like raw nerves.
The blade slips deeper, revealing white bone,
Nerve endings frayed, the pain all my own.

Organs rupture, spilling guts to the floor,
Entrails and bile, staining everything more.
I drag myself forward, but life’s leaking out,
A grotesque puppet, ripped inside out.

Death comes grinning, his scythe dripping red,
His hollow laugh echoes, filling me with dread.
I bleed for his hunger, he feasts on my cries,
He’ll gnaw on my bones when my body dies.

I’m nothing but carnage, a husk torn apart,
My soul a dark void, my body pure art.
The reaper smiles, he drinks from my fear,
And when I’m gone, there’s nothing left here.




NEXT LOL


Blood-Stained Cradle

Pills spill like teeth from a broken jaw,
Each one a bullet, each one a claw.
They claw at my mind, scrape deep at my soul,
Ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but holes.

The knife in my hand is soaked in red,
Veins split open, the body is bled.
Crimson rivers flow down my skin,
As flesh pulls apart—it's where the horror begins.

I drag the blade deeper, bone snaps with a crunch,
The scent of iron thickens, my demons grow drunk.
The wound is a mouth that screams without sound,
Swallowing blood, it drips to the ground.

A gun lies heavy, its barrel still warm,
Its bite leaves a skull cracked, shattered, deformed.
The splatter of brains paints walls like decay,
Life leaks away as the blackness turns gray.

The drugs churn like poison in my hollow veins,
A slow rot inside, twisting up through my brain.
Skin stretches tight, blood seeps from my eyes,
Every breath feels like I’m gasping through knives.

The cuts on my arms are deep, dark, and wide,
Muscle torn open, no reason to hide.
I watch as the tendons snap with a hiss,
Pain turns to pleasure in moments like this.

Death crawls nearer, its grip cold and tight,
Dragging me deeper into eternal night.
Each wound is a doorway, each breath fades to black,
I slit open my soul, and there’s no coming back.

The reaper, he laughs, his scythe drips with gore,
I’ve fed him my suffering, but he still craves more.
In blood and in bullets, I give him his feast,
Until I am nothing, just a corpse for the beast.


this next one He is about A murder yipee



Feast of Flesh

In the dead of night, with no moon to guide,
The killer wakes, shadows at his side.
His breath, a rasp, cold as the blade,
Tonight, the devil demands his trade.

He stalks the house, silent as death,
Each creak of the floor stealing a breath.
His prey sleeps sound, unaware of the fate,
That hell itself is at their gate.

The door creaks open, hinges moan,
The predator smiles—he’s not alone.
A blade in his hand, jagged and long,
Hunger in his heart, beating strong.

He raises the knife, gleaming and cold,
Its teeth thirst for the story untold.
With a thrust, it plunges deep in the chest,
The first wound is always the best.

Blood sprays like fountains, warm and thick,
The room fills with the scent, metallic and slick.
The scream is muffled, a gurgle of air,
As crimson rivers mat the victim’s hair.

The blade carves down, splitting through bone,
Each crack of the rib is a symphony’s tone.
Organs spill out, glistening in the light,
A grotesque masterpiece painted by night.

He saws at the throat, skin tearing wide,
The arteries burst, painting him with pride.
Blood spatters his face, his lips, his hands—
A twisted canvas, the reaper’s demands.

He rips at the flesh, pulling it apart,
Tearing the sinew, exposing the heart.
Still beating, still warm, but not for long,
He crushes it slow, savoring the song.

The victim’s eyes, wide with despair,
Glaze over in death, empty and bare.
But the killer isn’t done—he craves so much more,
There’s a symphony of pain he must explore.

He hacks at the limbs, severing them clean,
Tossing aside bones, meat, and spleen.
Fingers snap off, joints twist and break,
The body reduced to nothing but steak.

He peels back the skin, layer by layer,
Stripping the corpse like a butcher’s prayer.
Each cut is precise, each slash a delight,
In the feast of death, he takes his bite.

The blood pools thick, ankle-deep on the floor,
His boots slip in the muck, yet he craves more.
Entrails slither, intestines unwind,
Twisted ropes of flesh, no mercy to find.

He laughs in the carnage, drenched in red,
The corpse is a puppet, disfigured and dead.
He gouges out eyes, shoves them in his sack,
Trophies of terror, never looking back.

The room is a slaughterhouse, a scene of despair,
Flesh on the walls, organs laid bare.
The killer steps back, admiring his art,
Every gory piece, a token of his heart.

With one final glance, he slips into the night,
The blood-soaked man disappears from sight.
The wind carries whispers, screams in the air,
But no one will find him—he’s already elsewhere.

this next one is some what sad

The Last Plea

She begged me softly, tears in her eyes,
"Please stop the drugs, you're drowning in lies."
Her hands trembled, reaching for mine,
But the haze was thick, my mind no longer fine.

I told her I’d stop, but the craving was strong,
The need for the needle had been there too long.
Her voice was a warning, a barrier, a wall,
Between me and the high, between rise and fall.

“Just one more hit,” I said with a grin,
But she stood firm, she wouldn’t give in.
She cried, “I love you, but this has to end,
You’re losing yourself, there’s nothing to defend.”

Her words pierced deep, a knife in my brain,
But the drugs whispered louder, numbing the pain.
Rage boiled inside, a storm in my chest,
How dare she try to take what I knew best?

The needle in hand, I took one last glance,
But her eyes were pleading, killing the trance.
In a moment of madness, the high took control,
And what happened next, I can’t make whole.

I lashed out in fury, the blade found its mark,
A flash of red in the swallowing dark.
Her gasp was so soft, her breath slipped away,
Her love turned to silence, her body to clay.

I watched as the life drained from her skin,
Realizing too late the monster within.
I killed the one who tried to save me,
Her blood on my hands, a cruel legacy.

Now I sit here, the drugs still remain,
But they can’t numb the guilt, they can’t numb the pain.
She begged me to stop, I couldn’t comply,
And now I’m forever haunted by her goodbye.

the next one is not My favorite but here it is

Blood on My Hands

The night was thick, the moon hung low,
A predator’s grin, I felt the flow.
The hunger was growing, a beast inside,
No longer hiding, no need to abide.

The first was a stranger, a whisper in the dark,
A quick slice of steel, just the start of the mark.
Their scream cut short, blood pooled at my feet,
A canvas of carnage, grotesque yet sweet.

I moved to the next, no pause in my stride,
The streets ran with fear, there was nowhere to hide.
Each victim a thrill, a pulse to erase,
A life extinguished, no more than a trace.

One by one, they fell to the blade,
Their breath stolen as my chaos played.
A mother, a father, a child asleep,
I left them shattered, their silence deep.

Their eyes wide with horror, their limbs cold and still,
I felt no remorse, just the thirst to kill.
The blood on my hands, it painted my skin,
An art of destruction, a feast of sin.

I craved the terror, the power, the thrill,
The control over life, the silence, the still.
Each heartbeat I silenced was mine to claim,
Each life I ended, erased without name.

The city was quiet, a graveyard of fear,
The streets stained red, the end drawing near.
But I couldn’t stop, the hunger still burned,
The faces of death, twisted and spurned.

With each kill, the darkness grew,
A shadow that fed on the horror I knew.
I was the reaper, the nightmare they see,
On a spree of death, forever set free.

No mercy, no reason, just blood and pain,
A cycle of violence, a never-ending chain.
And as the sun rises, I know what’s to come—
Another night waiting, another spree begun.

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god this took a long time but yay I am done hate if you want idc but And if you enjoyed this (which I believe you didn't) I'm not a psychopath I promise and thx for reading