As I trace the lesions to my wrist,
I inhale the scent of blood,
Trickling down my waxen wrist,
No one understood.
I hope their happy,
Now I’m fading away,
Ending my life once and for all,
I hope they realize,
The reason this is,
Listen as you hear death call.
I am so sorry,
More than you know,
More than you ever will,
But alas this is,
The only way it can be,
My cold heartedness made me ill.
I have no more tears,
Left to cry,
What I did have has drained away,
I only wish someone had turned round to me,
And uttered so softly,
I used to think that to love was to live,
That my life would feel complete,
I used to think that death was the end,
Now I know it’s a safe retreat.
To love is to live,
Or that’s what they say,
Fools, how wrong they have been,
To love is to die,
As our hearts fade away,
Decaying by causes unseen.
Love attacks the heart,
Which slowly subsides,
Like a wiltering rose in a storm,
Love takes our emotions and rips them to shreds,
Only our spirit is left to mourn.
To live is to love,
And to love is to die,
The razorblade seems to stay strong,
Each cut to my body,
Like a gash to the heart,
Somehow, I cannot go on…