Countdown

Ten. Again, I reach for that knife.
It's still controlling my whole life.

Nine. I'm fine, as it touches my wrists.
The scars it caused will always exist.

Eight. Just wait, here comes the pain.
Nothing to lose, but still nothing to gain.

Seven. It's heaven, wrists turning red.
Drops of blood stain the sheets on my bed.

Six. Pure bliss, I hope I don't cry.
I feel too weak, I won't get by.

Five. Alive, but not for long.
I'm fading away like the end of a song.

Four. What for? Why do we try?
Try to stay living, then lay down and die?

Three. It's me, who I really am inside.
The side of me I always tried to hide.

Two. It's true, I don't want to be here.
I know I made that perfectly clear.

One. I'm done, it's not your fault.
It's my life, my choice, myself, my fault.