The blade cuts deep and
Clean into yielding flesh
Blood pours, red as sorrow, and
Leaves my body as I do
Ready to start afresh

Stop

It's not like that,
It has never been like that.

Your mother's kitchen knife,
So loved for making soup,
Is brought up to your wrist
Judders, twists only just scratches.

You have to try again.
A network of scratches.
You press the blade,
The metal,
The rusting onion destroyer
Back down.
This time, it works.
You find yourself sawing at yourself,
The cut is uneven
And messy.

Your body is screaming, and
So are you.
Not with pain of life but with
Pain of death.

You can only blame yourself.

And no release is found,  no gentle tumble into peace,
The pain rips through you, consumes you, you're crying, sobbing
Like a child.
You feel like one too.
You want your mum,
Your dad,
Your dog,
Your siblings and
All the friends you insisted you didn't have.

You need them with you, but you decided to push them away.
You decided not to ask for help.
You decided you wanted to be lost
Dramatic
Alone
You decided...that you wanted to 'give up'

Giving up is turning out harder than you thought.

The tears have fallen onto your cut and it stings,
Your arm smells of onion,
You suddenly think of her face lit up with love
As she pours you a bowl,
You laughed at a joke as
You buttered your bread,
You laughed...

"I haven't properly laughed in years"

You realise that was only last week.
For someone who's been 'imitating' life, the
Memory is surprisingly real.
You realise she'll never be the same again.
You realise you'll never laugh again.
Or taste,
Or smell,
Or see
The room starts to stink of
***,
You've ****** yourself with fear.
Do you think your 'oblivion' is near yet, my poor deluded dear?'

It's not.
Blood is dribbling out as you think,
You feel yourself shutting down
One by one.
You want to run away,
From what you've done,
What you've started.

But you can't.

You want the pain to stop
But you can't move anymore,
You're shaking with fear of what's
In store for you...

There's more to happen to you.

Your mum has found you.
She screams at the blood,
The mess,
At you.
You look grotesque, but
She still holds you.
Calls an ambulance, clutches you,
Shouts desperately in your ear.

You can hear her, but
You can't answer
You want to talk to her
Tell her you're sorry,
That you're scared,
That you love her
that it's not her fault*
You want a lot of things,
But the selfish do not always win...
You're realising that.

She can't hear you,
She blames herself, her
Skin is greasy with
Blood that will never clear:
Your blood.
Her baby's,
Her child's.

The blood so near to her's
Half hers,
You can practically taste her tears.
The room now stinks of fear

The ambulance is filled with light,
You watch as they fight
For the life you threw away
They plunge a needle in as
You silently start to pray,
Drifting in and out of consciousness...it seems too late to stay.

Your heart hammers,
Your rattling breath stammers out and
Your pulse shakes as
You frantically try to stay awake

You are too late.

And there is nothing
No eternal bliss
Nor the black velvet of death's embrace
Not even folded silence

There is nothing,
No light,
No love
And no laughter.

In the end they didn't lose you...
You lost them.

By succeeding

You lost.