Crimson beads of sorrow drain across my wrists,
The slender blade that made them so falls weekly from my grip,
The emptiness I've known so long now begins to fade,
This abhorrence since my day of birth at last can be unmade.

The tender touch of sorrow, these lasting cuts of mine,
Double quick my heart does beat, As sooner comes my time,
Crimson beads now fall from me, I'm a pool upon the floor,
Empty as my veins now seem, my heart feels somehow, more.

Echos of my vision race within my mind,
I wonder who will find the shell that I have left behind,
Cry not for the loss of one, though I doubt that one shall weep,
And notice not my tear stained face, I have found my peace.

 
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