Why am I doing this to myself?

There's blood on the floor.

I'm scaring myself.

But I just want to cut more.

Nothing feels better

than a razor blade kiss.

I'd stop after one more.

I promised myself this.

Ten cuts later,

with no intention to stop,

blood dripping down my arm,

I get more determined with every drop.

Feeling dizzy with blurred vision,

I start to cry.

I need to keep going.

I want to die.

Scared now,

about to die,

I scream out to no one.

I guess this is good bye.

My world goes black.

I guess I'm dead.

I hear screaming.

Is that in my head?

Screaming getting louder,

warm hands on my skin,

my dad calls 911.

Why can't they let Death win?

Sirens in the distance,

so close to Deaths grip,

I want to die,

but they won't let me slip.

People rush around me,

bringing me back to life.

Why couldn't they let me die?

I wanted to end the strife.

I gradually open my eyes,

to see a worried face.

I want to be dead.

Letting me die wouldn't end the human race.

Fix me up while you can,

but it's not going to last long.

I'm going to try again.

I know. It's morally wrong.

I should be with Death.

That's where I want to be.

I hate my life,

can't you see?

So fix me up now,

before it's too late.

I have to go soon.

Me and Death have a date.