I look upon the blade, will I
Test my theory of running
Crimson, that this blade
is the kiss of desperation.

It invites flesh upon its kisses
Of cold hard edges, I bleed my
Pain freely, it kisses the floor,
but then the moments of regrets
Whisper in to my thoughts.

I drink the venom of my despair
It tastes like nectar the honey
of life, but so much pours from
Me that I release it upon the floor,
Moments of my life.

With each drink I remember
life wasn't as bad as thought,
I drink my life but it still drains
From me. I have swallowed so
many moments but they just
collapse to the floor dead regrets
dead thoughts now lying upon the ground.