My final crime

Here I sit. In the rain. As I watch this final crime. I look around this park I’m in. No ones there to stop my pain. I start to tremble in my sobs. My knife only inches away from my wrist. I decide to cut my upper arm so the blood from my wrist won’t surprise me. As I carve at my already scared skin I see my leg. This time will be the very last time I cut away my pain. I look around me still no people, so here I go. The blood mixes with rain and salty tears. I lower the knife onto the final place. Here one, two, three. I slide it digging deep into the vein. Which pops almost instantly. I watch the blood pour for a few moments before turning my head toward my other wrist. I lower the knife. One, two, three. I digging deeper then before. My skin begins to pale. My lips growing purple. So here I sit. In the rain. Now as cold as my soul has been for many years. No one around to hear my heart stop beating. No one around. As I finish my final crime.