A shallow wave crashes.
Her black heart;
seeping, despairing,
the blood of something lost.
Never too late,
but the barren ocean
is no place for a lost soul.
A cry in the night,
the want to be free from all!
She gets the razor.
It touches her skin;
so soothing yet painful.
A wanderer's growing close!
The wound bleeds,
she slices more,
to feel herself again.
Just a lie, it's always a lie,
the way the slit wrists show
just how much she wants this.She sees no more,
as a last cry of pity empties the air.
