• I take in a jagged breath,
    As I steady my shaky hand,
    The knife is waiting above my wrist,
    Ready at my command.
    As I press the blade against my skin,
    My heart begins to race,
    And then I see my reflection,
    As tears stream down my face.
    The knife clatters to the linoleum,
    As I hang my head and cry,
    Even though my heart is broken,
    I Don't Want To Die.