I sit in the shower, contemplating life or death;
I rock back and forth,
trying to see my worth,
I tremble with each breath;
can someone please come to pull me back to earth?
I feel as if I\'m flying,
while I start bleeding,
the feeling fills me with mirth;
my blood mixes with the warm water I sulk in;
the water, like my mind, has been taken over,
no one comes to her, to rescue her,
not only do I die physically, I\'ve died within.
with my few moments left I grab my paper and pen,
ink bleeds into the paper,
my wrists bleed against the razor,
what happens when they see a corpse in the tub? what happens then?
will my death be considered selfish?
will I even be remembered?
perhaps my death will be misrendered.
perhaps my death, people would relish.
the water, like my mind, is no longer clear,
I couldn\'t find a way to escape from this world,
now this dreadful world looks whorled,
just like my blood mixed with the water.