Dying

The blade has found a vein

Hidden subtly beneath my skin

Hurt myself to stop the pain;

The fever that’s been woven in

Liquid life flows out like death

Sprinting down a severed wrist

The rhythmic pulse of panting breath

As bloody hands curl into fists

Crimson drops smack the floor

And weary eyelids become lead

It’s too late and much too sore

To fight against the royalty red
♠ ♠ ♠
Just been feeling a lot of mixed things latley, I really would rather give up.... But I know I can't, even if I image doing exactly this.