The Last Resort?

It is hard to come to terms
With loneliness each day
Your brain screams and your heart burns
Wish it would go away

The pressure seems to build and build
Like helium in a balloon
Preparing to die with a knife in a field
And put yourself into an early tomb

Want to scar, want to harm
Nothing else seems right
While I am slitting I remain calm
Knowing I will rest peacefully all through the night

The cut is so smooth, feels really good
Blood trickling down my arm
It feels so much better than it should
Knowing I'm giving myself fatal harm

Things start to fade, it becomes dim
I fall down face in the mud
By now there is so much I could almost swim
In this gorish puddle of my burgundy blood

As I'm falling asleep I think of life
Family pictured in my head
Soon I will be rid of all my strife
It's hard to be angry when you are dead

My parents have found me, no more secrets from them
Never thought I would see them cry
I will never be able to hug them again
Maybe I shouldn't have chosen to die

A message to all who have this in mind:
Think carefully about your actions