Oncore of death

Many thoughts surround my over ruled mind...

As I start with one thought the others intwine...

So many eyes are peering at me as though I were to make a wrong choice...

Or maybe mess up my song and choose the wrong voice...

I whisper these hurt full words with a razor to my wrist...

One slice, two slice, maybe three slice is the best...

As the drops of my raining blood over flooding my towl the floor is covered just like a crowd...

I sit under the spotlight waiting for my applause...

The silence rules the room...

The walls are breathing and the windows are screaming...

The razor goes deeper and my thoughts are hurting...

This pain of knowing is blurting....

As this is my end the final oncore...

And death had over ruled me as I stumble to the floor....