As I sit here and cut my last slash of skin with the pulsing vein of crimson
rain I become so weak that I fall to the floor, my head hits the wall. I
stand and stumble my way to the bathroom.. I see myself, an image I hated so
much, I stare at my body; my bulimic body..I scream to the sky " I hate
living!" as I punch the mirror taking each of the long, slabs of glass in
between each of my fingers as i say my last goodbye i slash my throat. Later
that night they found a note next to my body.. it read " Dig my grave dig it
deep dig me a place I can forever keep and on top of my casket lay a black
rose and remember these blood stained clothes"
 
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