Tommorow will never come

I’ll curl my fingers to my palm
And make my hand into a fist
And let the blood run down my arm
From the slit cut in my wrist.

But in my fist I will hold
A note that’s made out to
My family and friends and all
Explaining what I’ve gone through.

“Dear loved ones,” This note will say,
“I must say farewell
For I cannot cope with this
Life that I call hell.”

"I cry myself to sleep at night
Thinking of my day
In which I have missed my mom
In every single way.”

“And alas I think about
My truest friend of all
My friend who always helped me up
When I would trip and fall.”

And that is where my note will end
As will my painful days
And there will be no more tragedy
And no more painful ways.

And alas here I am,
My tragic note in hand
I’ll take this sharp blade to my wrist
And on the floor I’ll land.