Weapon in hand,
Alone in the room,
I face the fate,
I've planned for myself.
I've thought over the ways,
Swallowing those pills,
Rope around my neck,
A gun to the head.
A knife was my choice,
I longed to suffer,
To feel the pain,
See the blood.
My first slashes,
On my ankles,
Then continue up my legs,
Enjoying the misery.
My wrists and arms,
Now covered in blood,
Dizziness sweeps over me,
As crimson liquid escapes.
Sitting in my blood,
I look at my weapon,
My knife, turned red,
As my life slips away.
I make my last movement,
Press the blade against my chest,
I shove it in,
Taking my last breath.
