I cant help but to sit here in the corner of this room.
The thoughts of what Iíve done to you, Cause flowers of Hate to bloom.
The spiteful screams of my inner self are enough to scar these wrists..
Staring down at the blade that helps the screams fade, Releasing pain in a deep clean slit.
If i was to end it all, In a spiraling downward fall, Put the knife where my heart used to be..
Look up to the sky, Begging, Pleading, I donít know WHYÖ Then plunge the emotion toned blade, into the dark abyssal sea.