Fresh Tears

Fresh tears run down my cheeks,
My face becoming flushed as I cry,
I sit with my blade, becoming a nightly occurrence,
This will stay until the night I die.

My mind went wrong,
It's all jumbled inside,
It's unnatural, abnormal,
Leaving nowhere to hide.

The blade presses against my wrist,
But I don't remember holding it there,
My thoughts go blank of all I would leave behind,
All who would care.

It's digging in now, so cold and sharp,
Blood welling from my wounds and dripping from my wrist,
Pain burning in my arm,
I may finally get my Death Wish.

My tears drop down and mingle with the blood,
Creating an ever flowing crimson river,
As I watch it all drain out of me I begin to get dizzy,
Cold and shiver.

Blackness swirling around me,
Clouding my thoughts, my mind,
I drift into that darkness,
Leaving my body behind...

© Copyright of Holly Nia Goodson