Crimson is my Favourite Colour

I like to take a knife and cut into my wrists when no one is around.

I don't want to die, I just love blood,
I let it spill over my arms, my legs, I am covered in the warm, sticky, crimson liquid that I cannot live without.

Then I take a bath and the bath turns red,
I drink it and look in the mirror at the girl starring back at me, she has blood pouring from her arms and legs, a trickle from the corner of her crimson lips, she does not want to die, but already she feels dizzy, she takes a towel and holds it to the worst cuts.
But already it's too late, she feels the darkness tugging at her vision, all is now black for her.

When my mother comes in she will find me floating in a crimson bath, she will wonder why, but I guess she'll never know.

Please comment, I appreciate constructive criticism as well as praise.