My body and mind are a tempest,
Raging and calling for surrender.
They sing to me sweet stories of relief,
But poison my blood with burning fuel.
The knife that holds my eternal relief is in my hand,
Pressed to my skin at my wrist.
Ever deeper is where the tip dives,
Taking with it my life.
The moan that escapes my now pale lips is quiet,
But screaming with agony.
I have found my eternal release,
No one can take it from me now.
