Hesitating my action and shaking with fear and anger I pick up the knife and make a deep line. Its stinging and my body feels numb. I watch in a daze as the blood drips to my floor, making a puddle of me. Lost in regrets and promises that were broken I begin to cry silent tears. Cold and dizzy I make a mark on my wrist again. This time much deeper. I loose more blood and watch it drip. My skin is pale and lifeless. My vision is not clear but I see flashes of my life. Even visions that I can't remember even happend to me. I have lost feeling in my right hand from the blood I have lost. I pick up the gun with my left hand. Its cold and greasy. I raise it to my head and pull the trigger. For a moment I feel that I have made a mistake and loved the life I lived. I thought about the things I wished I had done. But it was much too late to do them. I heard a boom and felt a quick dreadful pain in my temples. I was dead.


I made this poem by myself...It has a lot of meaning to it and I hope all you get what it is. Thanks