Silver edges are no longer a pain.
Bright red oozing releases my old soul.
Know that when I die it shall be in vain.
Through my being is torn an endless hole.
And so I dread my agonizing life.
Desire to dissapear into the sea.
More so I'm tempted to use the knife.
Salty drops water the ancient oak tree.
It's my fault this happened, I'm sorry dear.
For once my emotions are crystal clear.
