Maybe he will realize

Puddles of blood
pours and pours
from my wrist to the floor
i sit in the bathroom
head shamelessly down
your picture in my left hand
and my bloody razor in the other
they tell me not to,
but its just what i have to do
this life just wasn't made for me and you
so once more i take the razor slit it on my wrist
try not to speak, or scream
in fears
that my parents,
would come running in
only to find me dead,
in the morning i say
he will finally see
that i really loved him,
and hopefully he will realize that
he really loved me