Cutter's thoughts

He sits in the dark,
pondering existence
as he cries and wimpers
in the lonely silence.
A sharp glint,
a swift stroke,
a deep cut
and it'd be over.
The blade is cold
on his wrist.
He hesitates for a moment,
trying desperately to find
some value.
He draws the blade back,
setting it next to him.
He wipes the tears from his eyes,
and decides to go on,
hoping some day,
maybe some day,
it'll get better.