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Too Late

As I open the bathroom door.
My eyes begin to pour.
I cry cry cry.
Wondering why why why.
Why do I feel I dont belong?
Why does no one get along?
So as I pick up that knife.
I think about my life...
Cutt one: As the cold hard blade
reaches my vein I begin to
remember when I was happy
and felt no pain.
Cutt two: I look at my arm
look at the blood, I think
to myself...wouldnt this
be easier if I just had a gun?
Cutt three: My bloodprint now on the
bathroom door..I get dizzy wondering is it
too late and drop to the floor..
Too awake to see and thank my mom for
my life...I will never pick up that knife..
again...




Scream Me Something Beautifull