Suicide

A blob of deep red seeping from my arm.
so pretty.
don't worry, i won't do any lasting harm.
i'm sensible.
the cuts get deeper as the days go by.
it doesn't hurt.
the more blood lost, the less tears cried.
i never cry now.
people are saying i'm going mad.
i'm not.
maybe i am, is it normal to feel this bad?
of course.
this time is really confusing me.
don't panic.
you can't escape from it; there's nowhere to flee.
so fight it.
scars spread ever closer to my wrist.
what's happening?
i know what to do, i can't miss.
no, don't.
searing pain shooting up my spine.
make it stop.
a dizzy head – but i'm feeling fine.
don't fall.
there's a lot of red on the floor.
like a carpet.
i don't think i can stand up anymore.
then sit.
head spinning crazily, i can hear bells.
getting quiet now.
is this it? am i freed from my living hell?
. . .