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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=513008" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Guitar And A Penutbutter Jar</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=513008" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I sit and play my guitar all day<br>as my fingers lay on the strings so tight<br>strumming it lightly <br>make sounds of pain<br>my fingers are bleeding but i dont care<br>the pain i feel inside is much stronger<br>why am i still alive? <br>can i take this any longer? <br>his voice tells me to keep playing on<br>my hearts want to die after my last song<br>i reach for the jar of penutbutter<br>they say there is happyness at the bottom<br>but they lie <br>the only thing i have left<br>is my guitar and an empty penutbutter jar<br>scrapping at the bottom as it keeps me busy<br>my hearts are screaming PICK UP THE BLADE! ! <br>dont put it down because its the only happeness you will ever know<br>its hard to stop some times i give in and do it<br>the blood flowing from my wrist to my guitar<br>my tears mixing in <br>so maybe there is hapyness in <br>my self mutilation, my guitar<br>and at the end of an empty penutbutter jar</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Sandy+Vanity">Sandy Vanity</a></strong></div>

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