Mourn

Mourning for my own death,
grasping for a knife,
with a quick slit of my wrist,
ending my eternal strife.

With a whimper, and a smile,
blood drips down in denial,
As I lay in the bath,
I start to weaken-no more wrath.

Mourning all the things I couldn't have,
All the hardships I've had to face,
what so many people put me through,
and wondering who will take my place.

Experiencing glimpses of precious moments,
A tear that has finally been cried,
wondering who I think will miss me,
now that I have finally died.

Mourning all the wrong decisions made,
thinking of that special someone,
whispering sorry, ever so softly,
after choosing this as the outcome.

Wishing that I could've caressed that person-for just only one night in bed,
through tears and blood I've already shed,
as crimson overtakes the water,
Feeling weaker with each hour.

Mourning of how it came to be,
how everything started- why me?
taking in one final breathe,
nothing to grasp-but death,
nothing to worry about,
nothing to get mad at,
no one to hurt me,
no one to hate me,
Resting-relaxed for all eternity,
no longer will I need sympathy.