The scrape of the knife against the bone.
The sound of the thump, as this blade finds its home.
The walls reverberate with these malicious songs.
The pain I feel wishing for the bong.
Blood trails from the small incision.
Was it wrong, or the right decision?
I've caused others to suffer, why not myself?
All I know is I might need help.
But there's no solace here.
There's nothing left, but fear.
I'm afraid of nothing though,
It's time to reap what I've sewn.
The reaper man, I fear not he.
For I have power more than he'll ever be.
Time to cut out, excuse the pun.
Perhaps this new realm, is much more fun.
I start to falter, an ailing ebb.
I've fallen into my very own web.
Alone I'll wander forever in seclusion.
This world was nothing more, than a false illusion.
