blood mixed with water

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.