Poem: The End
"Hate myself" he sobbed, reflecting upon his life,
drowned out by his perpetual cry,
glancing to the left, capturing the knife,
glistening, such a friendly smile.
He reached out to feel the blade
so cold within his hand,
tracing the spot with such precision,
but "Am I ready to leave this land?"
Could he leave in such a bloody way?
His body to be found by those in his heart,
A mess of blood and a body of pain,
the guilt he felt hit him, sharp as a dart.
How would the people around him cope
finding him all alone, his expression full of hate,
but does this matter, he wouldn't be here to care,
"Now I'm ready" he sobbed, sliced and sealed his fate.
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IMAGE: H4NUM4N
