The only way out from the depression of pain,
A slice of the knife threw my blood infested veins.
Internal wounds let out a cry,
Some days I wonder, was I meant to die?
Continue to cut deeper until I start to think,
Why not end it, for how much lower can my heart sink?
To much anger, to much despair,
No future life of mine can ever be fair.
Tears are approaching, the scars are appearing,
The dreams I once had are faintly disappearing.
All that is left now the knife on my side,
And the continuous memories full of lies.
Slice out my internal wounds, slice out my cry,
Maybe this time was meant for me to die.

 
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