You carve a name into your wrist with an inky sword.
You hope it would seep into your bloodstream, poisoning your purity.
It would make your once beating heart slow, slow to stillness.
The falling tears would disappear on contact.
The previously crimson scars would darken to magenta in an instant.
Your final breath released as a bang deafens the silent room.
The blood pours as the gun falls until there is nothing left.
Then a bright white light clouds their vision insuring they are vanishing from this life.
They are dead...

Suicide.