• With a silver glisten the air runs red,
    A sharp choking pain never felt so good.

    No momentarily scream,
    Just a sigh with the familiar relief of being free.

    Red drops turn into a sea,
    Tinted by this thought of inequality,
    Alienated bliss but the sea a rush of nothingness.

    The blade clatters to the floor,
    As numbness claims the hand.