~Note.. I wrote this a couple of years ago when I was very suicidal, I'm not anymore and the poem is not that grand but I wanted to post it for feed-back.. Good and bad ones~


She's bleeding
She's dying
She's happy
Her blood is pouring beautifully from her wrist
The razor, with it's sharp, rusty, lovly blade,
falls to the floor from her crisim hands
The girl is dying
She doesn't care
She wants to die
In death she cn be free
In death, she will finally have a home
As the blood pours forth from the slit
She feels all the love in the world
The love she never felt before
She picks up the dirty razor from the floor
To her skin it goes
Her thoughts pressure her to push it harder
She obeys gratefully
Egear to feel the razor's kiss once more
Harder it goes
She slowly starts to drag it on her skin
A suicide slice
Elbow to wrist
She's not crossing the street this time
Now she's going to die
She wants to die
The warm blood
Mixed with tears
Tears of joy perhaps?
Sting, and she loves the sensation
Bleeding ever still
She leaves
Follow her trail of blood and tears
You'll se it took her from a cold bed
To a warm bath
The water felt good
The warmth made her happy
Happy to die
She thought everything in death is better than life
Death is nothing
No more pain did she have to feel
No more tears did have to fall
No more broken pieces
Of a broken life
Of a broken heart
No more lies did she live
Not a person was sad
To hear of her death
They knew it was for the better
After all, They never gave a shit.