I sit upon emerald blades,
As the moon's beams cascade down upon me.
Onyx locks flow over my eyes,
Blurring my vision, caressing my brow.
My crystal-blue eyes stare up at the sky,
Looking upon the constellations there.
Cassiopeia, Leo, and Scorpio,
They are all there to watch over me this night.
But I don't care.
My trembling hand fumbles in my pocket,
Drawing forth a dagger from the fabric in which it is covered.
My breathing becomes faster,
Sweat forming upon my brow and palms.
Is this what my life has been resolved to?
Slowly, the silver blade is brushed against my tanned skin,
Drawing forth crimson tears.
And I feel a warm sense of relief,
One that can only be felt this way.
I can feel my life's supply
Falling from my veins and onto the ground,
Staining the emerald blades.
All too soon the flush of relief is gone,
Now replaced with the light-headed feeling in my brain.
But this time I don't bandage myself.
I lay there in the moonlight,
As my life falls away in crimson tears.
I open my mouth to release one last rattled breath,
Before the darkness overwhelms me.
B.T
*Do not use this poem
*Copywrite: Becky Trendall
