Cutting

In the bathroom,
I hide my fears,
Crying silently,
To hide my tears.

Then I remember,
The knife in the drawer,
Quietly grabbing it,
To make a slit once more.

Over the wrist,
Blood starts pouring,
And my eyes go wide.

Am I scared,
That I could die?
Or should I be happy,
For I'll never again cry.

The room begins fading,
My ankles they weaken.
Falling to the floor,
My wrist still bleeding.

Shouts at the door,
Pounding it down,
Mother its to late,
In my blood I've already drown.