Suicide (True Story)
as i sit here attempting to remove a blade from a razor i think of all the pain in my life i have recieved, all the pain i have felt and all the pain ive put myself through.
my fingers are being sliced by my uncareful destruction. blood drips off my hand and onto my sheets and clothing yet i am unphased.
i finally remove a blade and run my finger along its sharp edge, barely slicing my skin, yet enough to draw blood.
i pull up my pant leg and stare at my pure white skin, soon to be spoiled by my red hot blood. as i touch the blade to my skin a tiny droplet of blood secretes from my small wound.
i slowly and deeply drag the blade across the surface, a thin line of blood soon comes. i continue slicing my self, as the blood runs down my leg, i feel all my hurt and pain from my past flow with it.
blood is everywhere but i dont make a move o clean it up. i simply watch the blood pour out of the cuts. i read what i have carved and realize “this is the answer to my problems”.
suicide is what it says, i debate with my past self and then consider my future. suicide could end this all yet i decide not to commit it. i have not the guts to try again with fear of succeeding…but wait thats not me. suicide is the answer i know it… but what about my friends… who need and depend on me… i decide just to allow the blood to continueously flow… everywhere… is cutting the best solution?… is this what i want to remember doin when i could take the emotional pain?
i make a bandage and wrap it tightly around my wound.the blood seeps through i can read it through the gauze… bloody letters read suicide… and somehow this brings satisfaction… i must be insane… but tonite i shall sleep peacefully…