My thoughts of red,
Come flying through my head,
They come and go,
As quick as a fly,
They make me want to die,
The metal against the flesh,
Then the flesh stains red,
A sigh of relief come to my head,
Making me feel that death is a release,
A release from the pain,
Later on I realize,
That it creates more pain,
The emotional turns to physical then to mental,
The permanent mark,
The mark that came from a thought then to an act,
Something that you can’t take back,
You’ll always have those thoughts of when you were younger,
Of the red and of the black,
Your going to have to deal,
Deal on how to live with the thoughts,
The thoughts of death,
Slowly you’ll start to heal.
