The Depressed 1

My Blood

I slice my wrist to watch myself bleed

 

On my blood my pain it does feed

 

I watch every drop as it hits the floor

 

Tell myself I will do this no more

 

I know to myself that I have lied

 

As my cells lethargically commit genocide

 

Like a runaway horse my past catches me

 

Condemning my future to an inferiority

 

I try unsuccessfully to wash myself clean

 

With my blood from pain that is unseen

 

Pain pulls the strings within my brain

 

As my blood it likes to systematically drain

 

My body has become desensitized

 

I no longer feel the tears that I cry

 

Tell myself one more time over and over again

 

My blood will spill until its very end