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The light slowly fading,
i saw that familiar puddle,
so dark and black,
i looked back to my wrists,
saw that smooth cut,
so fine under the blanket of blood.

i see this everyday,
each time looking so new,
i never seem to know why though,
that little trickle of blood,
letting it fall in that puddle,
turning so dark inside.

when i am done i clean the puddle,
the rag covered in red,
i grab my arm bands,
slip them over the fresh slashes,
pull my sleeves down around them,
throw the towel in the was and leave.

later i find myself sitting in my room,
sitting by the open window,
i stare down at the cuts,
thinking about what each one ment to me,
as i made each one so deep so sweet,
it leaves me thinking so quiet.

i fall asleep to my own soft cry,
and dream about the way i will die,
it comes to me so clear,
i wasnt meant to be,
i should not be in this world,
do i wake up or not?

*Not wrote by myself, had help*