Coming Home

The knife slits through my wrists
The tender flesh gently parts
designs are carved out
a deadly work of art

my life runs down my hands
trying desperately to stay
attempting to close my self-inflicted wounds
refusing to come out and play

I fight back deftly
with my steel-edged friend
cutting the cords that hold me here
Finding that blissful end

Dying slowly in the rain
i wonder that this doesnt hurt
death is like coming home
peace after a long day of work

Entering the void
I think back to my life
I wonder about the people im leaving behind
but in the end...
Im Glad I Used The Knife