Death is coming
For me tonight
In the form of this blade
Which I use to cut my wrist
Bringing forth
The pouring of blood
Bright red
Creating a puddle on the floor
My life draining
Through this wound in my arm

I lower the blade
Cutting my flesh
My warm blood meets the air
Running down my arm
Dropping to the ground
Thickening
Growing darker
As is all that surrounds me

I was once afraid of death
Now I welcome it
Trembling
Growing weak
The flow of blood slows
As I near death
Not much time left

Everything goes black
As I die a peaceful death
The pain is gone
I feel...not a thing
As my body lays motionless
In a pool of blood
Cold with death