As I sit here and hold the blade my wrist
I can't help wondering how it came this?
I pick up my phone,
Debating to text someone or just be alone.
I wonder if anybody knows how low I really am?
I know for a fact that nobody gives a damn.
Slowly I pick up the blade and move it to my forearm.
I won't die tonight, but I do want to feel something besides numb.
A deep breath in and the blade glides right across.
Looking down I prepare to clean up any blood lost.
To my relief it's not too much, just enough.
I feel my head start to rush.
I lay on my back and feel the pain.
With all my might I close the blade and refrain from making it deep.
Then I close my eyes and pray that God takes me in my sleep.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoetryA collection of poems reflecting life. Contains scenes of depression, anxiety, suicide. Probably not updated frequently. *CAUTION MAY CONTAIN MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS* *TRIGGER WARNING: CERTAIN THINGS WROTE HERE MAY TRIGGER DEPRESSION...
