My Blade

My blade has grown quite dull,
From cutting each and every day.
I'm afraid of pushing just too hard;
Watching my life fade away.

I scramble through the kitchen,
Searching for a knife that i can use.
Knowing that with this,
My skin i shall abuse.

Alas! I have found one.
A blade to end my strife.
Know that with this,
I may someday end my life.

I first cut is pure happiness.
A real smile spreads 'cross my face.
The blood drips down my arm.
I have finally found my place.