Life (or the lack of)

I stand to see this crumble down
these times i seem to slowly drown
i think and hope and push myself
i feel like I'm put on a shelf
i sit and wonder what id be
if these people let me be
i do there work i make them happy
now this poem is getting sappy!
i wait and watch and help there need
i think of how i use to bleed
i think of razors in my wrists
and how i used to be like this
i want to die for i have nothing
but this woman make it something
though shes mile and miles away
i still think or her everyday
though things may not turn out like they plan
i know i can die a happy man
i rip and slash and cut and tear
i bled but i go nowhere
i used to see things but not anymore
i get up and walk to my door
suddenly with my last step i fall
this wasn't what i want at all
i see my vision fading out
i open my mouth and try to shout
but nothing comes out...
what is this? this light this...emptiness? is this what life after death is? or is this just.... a waiting room? is hell on earth or is there none? i will now once i come undone
light flies back and i return.
this stuff on my arms, it starts to burn. and so i just lay and hope it heals. thinking of life and things that are real