For The Best Poem by Autumn Lewis

Your blood pumps fast,
Your heart beats slow,
This breath will be your last,
For reasons only you know.
You lower the blade closer and closer,
Your mind drifts off farther and farther,
The world weighs upon your shoulder,
You are not a cutter but more a carver.
An artist with art that is so very bold,
And the color you use so very bright,
As you lie there and grow cold,
You don't move or put up a fight.
You are done with love and the world,
He doesn't know what you've done,
You never told him why your hair was curled,
And you never explained why you pretended to have fun.
He should know you loved and cared,
For him so very much,
That to leave the world wasn't to scare,
 but to help a matter in a rush.
You're gone and he is here,
You feel his emotions,
He has for the world, so much fear,
But for you his life is a devotion.
And you watch over him with care,
And you still feel the same,
Even if life for you wasn't fair,
His picture shouldn't have the same frame.