The Mess

Lying on the bathroom floor,
In my own pool of blood,
Wanting nothing more
Than to die in this flood.

One night, every week,
I find myself, trying,
Nothing left to do,
I find myself, dying.

I try my best to hide,
Behind my fake smile,
Nearer to the edge,
As a blood drop stains a tile.

People try to help,
They do their very best,
But i can't stand it any longer,
I think its about time I left.

Friends try to tell me,
they don't want me to leave,
But i can't do this to them,
I'm sorry if i deceive.

Lying on my bedroom floor,
In a pool of blood once more,
Silently hoping,
That no one comes through the door.

I pick up the razor,
For about the hundredth time,
Hoping that tonight,
I can finally end this rhyme.

For the final time I say,
I'm sorry for this mess,
Now they will never know,
How much I have to confess.

Blood stains on the carpet,
Someone walks through the door,
Never knowing this mess,
They will soon find on the floor.

"I'm Sorry" Written in blood,
"Goodbye" Was my last breath,
Sorry that you had to see,
Me fall to my own death.