I'm slowly dying.
I slit my wrist a moment ago and I cut so deep,
Time is now catching up to me.
I'm lying on my floor, unable to move.
I'm staring out my window, looking at the scattered clouds in the blue sky.
I know I am going to die, but there's not a hint of fear in me this time.
Is it the loss of blood that's making me feel this way, or have I finally accepted my death?
Everything is slowed, and I'm barely able to catch a proper breath.
The window's cracked open a little, so there's a nice breeze that creeps its way in,
But I can barely feel it, because my attention is directed at the plane slowly passing by in the distance.
I'm dying alone.
I'm far past the point of saving, and I'm the only one in my home.
I wonder how they will find me, because there is no one left that I know.
As I lay here, I start to imagine there's someone kneeling beside me holding my hand.
They don't speak any words, and I barely give them a glance.
I know my death is closer than ever,
Because I'm being put under a trance.
I'm fighting the will to close my eyes,
Because I want to soak up every detail I can before I go,
But it's too overwhelming, and my eyes slowly begin to close.
As they close, I'm apologizing to everyone that's ever known me in my head,
Because I know I will be hurting them, and this is my one final regret.
I didn't write a note, so when they find out about this it will be unexpected.
Please know I cherished every second of our time together,
And each memory we shared was never neglected.
I am truly sorry.
Thomas.
