Leaving the past Behide

Blood is dripping,
From my wrists,
Where the ripping,
Of a knife I did inflict,

It went in deep,
Touched the vein,
I watched it seep,
And make a stain,

This is the last,
Time I decide,
To moan on my past,
As I now leave it all be hide.

© Samantha Jayne Reed
Wrote on October 5th, 2004