the knife is silver

my skin is pale

I want it.

yet I hate myself more for it

I need it.

yet it unmakes me

the silver comes alive with red

staining its gleaming side

tears of red

tears of relief

the silver still dances

making more and more

sharp movements

I need it now.

I need it all.

It makes it stop

the silver slows

I don't want it to

it slows

as my friend

rips it from my hand

and I fall

crying red

onto the pale linoleum

as darkness makes the room spin