• Abstractly I watch
    The crimson flow, stuff of life,
    Fall, dripping from my wrist,
    The patter of teh drops is less like rain,
    More like spitting ghastly red streaks
    On my arm.

    I'm not even sure why
    I took that blade,
    And pressed it a thousand times over against the flesh,
    That once was laced with bluish veins,
    And is now like carnival paint on pale snow.
    It could be an easy escape,
    Which is why I don't call out now, but wait till they find my body.

    I know I'm getting dizzy now,
    I feel cold, getting colder as the litres drain from my veins,
    And I think, Must be near gone now,
    I think, Must be near the end now.
    But it's difficult, suddenly,
    To think of what I'm missing.

    It's not regret,
    The thing I feel (Besides the cold),
    But something more like hesitation,
    Funny how I only feel it now,
    For you would think hesitation would be before I acted.
    I guess it is in a way,
    For my hesitation is before my death.

    I wonder if I'm lucky in my hesitation, my death.
    It is such an unknown concept,
    'What goes through their heads, just before..?'
    I wondered it before my act, before hesiation,
    Not knowing what I was facing is always feared,
    But that fear would be silly compared to what I knew would happen,
    That would not be unknown, for all of us know (maybe also why and how),
    Peaople like me do this.

    But what's done is done,
    Maybe it is a disastrous mistake,
    Maybe I'm ruining all the lives around me into a screwed up ball.
    But I guess it's a bit late now; I'll be watching the consequences from
    above.
    Or maybe below. I can't say - Maybe my final act has doomed me,
    maybe not.
    But I won't regret. I will be sorry, but I won't regret.

    You shouldn't regret, not when life is so short.
    So frail.
    I should know, life is too small and insignificant for you to waste it by worrying,
    Or waste it by shortening it. Oh well.
    Even the greatest of us fall of the wagon.
    Forgive and forget. Two words forever entwined.
    Life and death, the same.

    So I watch abstractly.
    It has no meaning, not any more,
    For as my panicked mind has regarded and assessed the action,
    It's dismissed it.
    We should deal with the consequences of our actions.
    The consquences of teh ghastly red streaks
    On my arm.