Depressing Poems

Before the first cut...of the night.

...I'm alone - sitting silently in the empty room, staring

Unseeingly into the darkness.

Lifeless, empty, tragically anguished by the

Cold edges of the blade that stills my tarnished wrists.

Frosted at the touch, yet consuming and familiar.

The sliver of hesitation is annihilated as

The mental fray begins.

And the torture settles in.

As the location of my lungs becomes undiscoverable.

Sight is blinded by the rivulets of tears.

My rescuer is drifted from reality, non-existent,

Which abruptly turns my reality into my worst nightmare. A night terror.

Only, this isn't exactly true. Because being unconscious is fairly rare;

I never sleep. The thoughts are too much,

And the cuts are too deep and

Too painful to be forgotten.

But...I will sleep tonight...

The eternal slumber that awaits relapses in my mind,

Curling my nauseated stomach with

startling addiction and unfathomable anticipation.

And I cannot leave the worthlessness which is myself unsatisfied...

I lower the snowy metal to the skin, where the

Blood that runs hot and fast throughout my veins

empties.