Suicidal Murder

The knife that I used lies in the sink,
I murdered him to myself I think,
His blood poured out, and my hands it did stain,
I still can hear that scream of pain,
The bright green eyes with that piercing gaze,
Remain in me as if trapped in a maze.
And then an inkling of remorse,
Comes from within like an inner force,
Its so vividly clear within my head,
And now Im wishing it was I who bled.
For the family that I tore apart,
Is so much worse than a broken heart,
And suddenly it hit me so,
That it was instead, my time to go,
And before I could focus, the deed was done,
My hand went limp, and my head felt numb,
And as I lay there on the ground,
All was quiet, there wasnt a sound,
For I knew no-one worried, and no-one cared,
And as I lay there, I became some what scared,
For if I was indeed found not,
My body would lay there, my insides would rot,
But I neither worried or cared anymore,
For the room was secluded, and closed was the door,
For my life was now over, my death was past,
And I could lie there, resting at last.