Blood

The dripping of the blood makes me gag.
it makes me quaseay.
this,
this is my own blood.

the knife i was once holding is now on the floor.
a pool of crimson blood surrounds it.
i look at the wound on my wrist.
no more emotional pain today.

the phone rings.
i do not move.
it calls through the silent house.
im covered in blood.

i hear a voice.
they are calling out to me.
instead of going towards it,
i run from in it.

the person bangs on my door,
screaming for me to let them in.
i dont go to the door,
i go to my desk.

there, in my hands, is another knife.
i shakedly write a goodbye letter,
and dig the knife deep into my heart.
no more emotional pain.

ever.