• I sit here
    Cutting my wrists
    Watching the blood spill out
    Until they cannot bleed anymore
    Sighing to myself
    Wondering when my time will come
    I ponder on the thought of Death.
    I can control it, can't I?
    I look at the knife I'd been slicing across my skin,
    Coated with fresh crimson blood.
    I smile grimly, holding it in a stabbing position.
    As soon as I would pierce my chest,
    I would be with him forever.
    No more pain of life,
    No more hanging onto far-off memories.
    I stab my chest
    And it's all over.