The Lonely Life I Led. Poem by yabadabadoo

I walk in the house,
As cold as death,
I dropp my backpack
And take a closing breath.
I sit on the ground and hope to the last,
That someone will care
I'v gone from the rest.
I pull out the knife,
With its smooth silver point,
My wrists are pleading to have a blanket of blood.
I bite my lip,
My last tears
Come from the wonderful pain.
I sit for two minutes,
Woozy in the head,
Then i collapse
Completely dead.
I lay their unmissed,
Forgotten in my sea of red,
Still stuck in this box
Of denial and
Dread.