I have nothing left in me
just blood,
cold angry blood
coarsing through my veins,
pulsating through my body
keeping me alive
for just one second longer
until the fateful moment when
I hold a familiar object
and press down
into the flesh of my wrist
beads of cold blood rise to the surface
it stings for just a second
then nothing
not even a tingling sensation,
as I watch the blood
poor out of my open wounds,
one drop at a time
until there is
a crimson pool of blood
surrounding my increasingly weak body
I hold out my wrists to see
the beautiful work of art
created by blood
with this tiny knife
and my desire to meet with death
I look one last time
and there staring up at me
in the crimson pool
at my feet
is the faces of those I love
I reach out to touch them
only to splash the blood
and make the faces disappear
"I'm sorry" I whispered
as I crashed to the ground
in my bloody ending
