My Blade, My Life (by Mel)
With trembling hands, she reaches for her blade. She tells herself it will be the last time.
She tells herself this every time.
She never succeeded before, but will just have to now.
With the blade in her hand, she breaks out into a cold sweat.
She starts shivering and her heart beats faster.
She thrives on these feelings,
she tells herself she must do it, and she knows what she is about to do, but she does not care.
She takes the blade and slits her wrists -
Bad, real Bad...
The blood starts pouring from her wrists, exposing bone, flesh - her hands dangling -
She drops the blade and minutes later drifts off into a world of her own. Her life had litte meaning, and now - No meaning at all.
She had to do it.
Now she is free from pain and suffering.
And now she has succeeded....

by my dear friend Mel who means so much to me, her old poem.