A knife sharpened not by grindstone but by the words that flow from the mouths of ones peers.

The blood drips a pitter-patter rhythm on the floor

Your skin splits where the knife meets it, the immense feeling of euphoria as the blood flows down your wrists.

The Tears fill your eyes as you know you've failed

The knife drops from your hand and falls to the floor covered in blood.

You can feel your life slipping away from the slits in your wrist

Your knees buckle under the weight of your problems and you fall upon your hopes and dreams.

You cry tears of hatred and self-loathing while you lie bleeding to on the floor of your bathroom, alone

You stand up with wobbly knees and cover your wrists with a shirt to staunch the bleeding.

*Finally you can feel your mind putting the mask over your face that tells everyone, "I am ok..."