Thank You For Being My Death Cause

I grab my razor off of the shelf and hold it in my hand.
Getting ready to end it all and deeply cut my wrists.
I'm more than ready to end this living hell.
I don't know how I've lived for so long in a place like this.

I slice my wrists deeply--just as I had planned.
Watching my crimson blood fall onto the bed and floor like rain.
Finally the hate and corruption in this world will end.
I couldn't find any other way to stop the immense pain.

Tonight my world is finally coming to a halt.
I'm ending the fifteen and a half years of pain you've caused.
You could never point out my strengths,
Yet you made sure to find every single one of my weaknesses and flaws.

Do you find hurting me amusing?
Are you having fun ripping my heart to shreds?
Does calling me filthy names make you feel better about yourself?
If so you are really screwed up in the head.

I'm getting dizzy from lack of blood running through my veins.
I'm losing my mind and all self-control.
I take my final breath and go to sleep eternally.
I wonder if you even care that in a sense, you just killed your oldest baby girl.

You walked in the next morning because I didn't come when called.
You saw me staring with glazed eyes into space and my face was ghostly white.
I heard you say, "Oh my Gosh there is blood everywhere! Holy sh!t she's dead!"
What surprises you!?! You killed me! now I’m dead! for once you're right.

You called the ambulance after shock passed and you could speak.
On May 11, 2005 at 10:33AM I was pronounced dead.
Maybe the message of my unhappiness was finally shown.
It finally got through your ignorant nature and your thick head.

You sit next to me in the morgue and hold my frozen hand.
You say you're sorry a million times, and then again.
Why are you apologizing Dad?! I'm already gone!
If only you had told me this years ago--saved I might have been.

You stand up and look at something oddly.
You pick up the item you are staring at, a chart at my side.
It says "Time and Date of death: May 11, 2005 10:33AM;Weapon: razor blade..."
Then I see you cry for the first time in my life as you read "cause of death: suicide."