• I sit there staring at the razor in my hand. The sweet taste of death spilling in my mouth. It lingers on the tip of my tongue begging me to satisfy the hunger. I let the razor touch my wrist, the smooth silver slides over my delicate skin, cutting through it like butter. The crimson liquid trickles from my veins, dripping to the floor staining the carpet with my life. I let the sliver kiss my skin again, more and more of my life flowing from me. I lay back on the floor in a beautiful reverie, smiling as my blood covers me in a crimson velvet blanket. I die thinking of happiness, which you'll never know resided in my soul.