Lines of red

Lines of red upon my wrist
As the knife gave me a kiss
Thoughts of death going through my head
But instead I just bled
Tears forming in my eyes
Because myself, I do despise
Oh no, this isn't a curse
This is something far more perverse
Quickly spun poems explain the pain
Prove to everyone that I'm not sane
No solution is ever in sight
So this poem I will recite
So you can understand
Why my death I have planned
At least it hurts only me
Although I'm sure you don't agree