Blood-Red Ghosts

I take the knife
And hold it in my hand,
Gliding it across my wrist,
Releasing the blood-red ghosts.

It's not enough,
I crave more blood.
More of these ghosts need to escape,
They are tearing at my soul.

Pressing the blade deeper,
The blood rushes out in a pulse-like manner.
I am too weak now,
I can't cut anymore.

My blood-red ghosts are leaking out,
I hope I will be happy,
Once they are gone.

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