You Weren't Home

Home alone, once again,
You're at the bar, like usual,
All I can see is the knife on my dresser,
Like it's calling my name,
I can't ignore it,
It's all I can feel,
The only way to know I'm still living,
Is to see my own blood,
Flowing from my wrists,
I don't feel the pain I'm inflicting,
But the hurt flowing out,
A burning sensation,
An adrenaline rush,
Okay, maybe temporary insanity,
But it drives me deeper,
I slice through the veins,
I can't breathe, choking on blood,
It's beautiful, a euphoric feeling,
Then all goes dark,
I'm dead.