I Can Only Cut

I slip into the kitchen,
Not making a single sound,
I open the drawer,
And take what I found.

It's blade is pointed and long,
I slide it North to South,
As it digs deep in my skin,
No sounds creep from my mouth.

Blood oozes from my wrist,
As I dig the bladde deeper,
All my pain flooding away,
From the curse that I face.

No one will ever love me,
For I see,
Nothing other than horror,
As I beg, hope, and scream for more.

Everything is alright,
As long as I have my knife,
And maybe the day I take my life,
It'll finally end my undying strife.

[This is another one of my Suicide Poems. Also based on knowledge I've gained from other people. Please Vote & Comment.]