My pain beseeches me.
My heart in one hand. The blade in the other.
I see the red swelling beneath me. The ever daunting flow of begging for my last.
I will not let go.
So much to fight for.
It’s this itching within me. This crawling beneath my skin.
The voice that tells me “do it”
“Go through with it”
I cannot. I will not.
The peace begs my heart. It begs the silence to overwhelm my mind.
Feel me. Breathe in the smell of death and peace. Allow once more to feel that peace you do not know but need.
The screams. The screams.
Bring me to my knees.
Beg for the quiet. The quiet within me.
The beginning of this end of thoughts that plague me.
Begging. Begin the unknown.
Bring it into me, to become what I fear.
Shut out the noise. All of the noise that slithers between my ears. It gnaws at my mind.
It is in the sun, in the moon’s gaze. It brings me no solace but masochisticism. Enjoying the burn. The slice. The pain.
I know it will end. I beg for the end. I want the silence.
Inhale. Exhale. Cut me of my pain.