A blade is poised,
above my wrist.
Razor cut,
add to my list.
A little slice,
release my pains.
Blood now flows,
from tormented veins.
A steady trickle,
has begun.
I have lost,
the dark has won.
The end I pray,
soon grows near.
Death is welcome,
I call it here.
So razor invoke,
the great god of death,
for this material world,
I've certainly left.
