Face to Face

I stand and watch
as people walk by.
They look ahead not knowing
my deep craving to die.

I start to walk home,
bumping past strangers.
Eyes becoming blurry,
hands beginning to quiver.

A lone tear trickles
as I enter my room.
My mind racing fast
about my encounter with doom.

At long last it comes:
my moment of truth.
I glance longingly at my destiny;
I glance down at the knife, which soothes my soul.

Assisting my sleeve to my elbow,
revealing long, deep gashes,
I raise the beautiful silver to my skin,
crimson blood stalking as it passes.

I cry out in pain,
but the metal never fails.
I finish my final cut,
collapsing to the floor, skin pale.

Barely able to move,
with such limited life left,
my lips form a fragile smile.
I have reached my destiny;
I've come face to face with death.