I need to feel the blade against my wrist,
My salty blood giving the blade a kiss,
Tears turn my cheeks black from the mascara,
I'm dead inside and you couldn't even tell.
Were you really that blind?
Now I'm standing on a chair,
With a rope around my neck,
And a blade in my hand.
That blade was meant to cut me down.
That blade was supposed to be you,
You were supposed to cut me down.
But now?
I'm jumping off this chair.
Slicing my wrists,
Cutting open my arteries.
Blood leaks to the floor.
I smile for the last time.
I'm finally gone.
I'm finally happy.
I'm finally where I belong.