Suicide, the poem
standing here looking at the floor
i think i took too much
i lift my head to look out the door
but, i can feel myself slippin from life's clutch
im wondering how long it'll be
before the reaper comes for me
feeling faint the end must be near
i feel so out of place like i shouldnt be here
holding out my arm and taking a knife
i wonder if it'd be quicker to end my life
pushing the blade on my skin
i have to watch as the blade slides in
the blood gushed out like niagra falls
i didnt think it would have hit the walls
with a crimson pool beneath my feet
i knew my job was now complete
getting dizzy i start to drop
hoping the bloodflow doesnt stop
getting weaker i draw my final breath
i'll finally meet my maker, i'll finally meet death
wreck the crash man Community Member 
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