From cuts to suicide

I used to slit my wrists
and cry myself to sleep,
I wasn't suicidal
so I'd never cut too deep.

Throughout the weeks
I'd watch my wounds heal,
everyday they'd get better
so my suicidal thoughts, I'd conceal.

Never expecting anyone to care
I once cut to deep,
I was rushed to the Emergency room
and all around me I saw people weep.

Sitting by my side,
day in and day out,
was my mother and father
I knew they'd be there,
without a doubt.

I soon started to heal
physically as well as mentally
Prouder than ever before,
I again begun to feel.

I felt the happiness of being loved
and the old sadness of my self-hate
Suddenly I knew I couldn't go on with life,
soon enough everyone would see that suicide was my fate.

I wrote them a note that told them all
that even if they loved me
I could never love myself.

I told them that even though it hurt
and that they'd never see me again
that soon I'd breathe my last breath
therefor, It'd be my last sin.

I took a gun
and a shot rang out
I was dead, killed,
without so much as a shout.