Too Late Poem by Tabitha Cena

I set in my room and cry all alone,
the only thing's in my hands is a razor
blade and phone. I text all my Loved
ones goodbye, I just knew it was my
time to die. As suicidal thoughts run
through my head it's also packed with
so much dread. I have so little left to gain,
but also a lot of pain. Would people miss
me, would my death have a fee, a tourchured
soul such as mine, I knew I would have to
pay the fine. God would be very dissapointed
witht he choice I made, but the burning flames
of hell, Saten himself made sure I paid. Before
I made my first cut, I had put myself in a huge
rut. Should I do it up or down, or all the way
around, Is there really a right way, this I thought
about each and everyday. As I planned on
how I would die, I would again, begin to cry.
Death was so much more simple, or was it
more easier to put a gun to my timple. Time
kept flying by, I made my first move and felt
my blood drip onto my thigh. Five slices in,
lets see if I can at least last for ten. Slice by
slice, this felt very nice. No more tears, no
more fears, now i could see very clear.
Thirty- four slices on my wrist, I begin to
feel the blood mist. I had to go deeper
with my razor blade, I didn't want my cuts
to ever fade. As I made my final incision, I
knew this would be my very last decision.
So long and deep, I plunged the blade in my
arm, now my body is no longer under any
harm. Today was the date, everyone
knew it was too late.