The blood running down my leg,
rubies melting into my skin.
Thinking about how to die
suicide becoming more and more therein.
Seeing myself hanging, or collapsed apon the floor
he doesn't like me thinking it
but living seems like a chore.
I can't see the sense in living any more
whenever i try i always screw up.
I'm dying, i can feel it
i'm not just "in a rut"
my soul is giving up
and my body is starting too...
These aren't normal thoughts,
well... maybe they are, to you.
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