Depress-i-cide

Blare your music,
Stare at the ground,
Disappear,
Just like some sound,
Dead in your head,
You'll make it red,
Sharpen that edge all around,
Metal shavings on the ground,
Wrap that rope right and tight,
This will be your one last night,
Someone comes tracking mud,
And there you hang over a pool of blood,
Lifelessly hanging by one beam,
Trapped in your one everlasting dream.