Cuts of a Lost Love...

I sit alone and I sit in the dark.
Holding my knife to make my mark.

I pull up my sleeve and look at my wrist.
The pain it brings, I ball up my fist.

My eyes become slits as I stare in abyss.
I'm so angry and lonely. It's him that I miss.

He left me with pain. He left me with sorrow.
It's because of him I won't see tomorrow.

Memory traces my thoughts of depression.
It flows down my veins to perfection.

I drag the blade across my skin.
Blood seeps from the wound and then...