Cut Poem by Amber Zitzloff

Cut, I crave a blade.
My path is paved.
Something sharp would surfice.
Actually, I think it would feel quite nice.
Slice a line through my vein.
Its the only thing to rid me of this pain.
I cry and this time I know I will finally die.
I lay on the floor,
hoping no one will open the door.
If, by chance, they do,
it will be fine, because I am through.
The fear and despair,
I no longer have to care.
The smile I fake,
I no longer have to make.
Good-bye to one.
This time I'm really done.