by Alfonzo Bonofozi

Created on: April 05, 2010

My knife is by my bed tonight,

as I cry myself to sleep.

I can't fall into a slumber,

for my thoughts are far too deep.

I turn on the lamp beside my bed,

reaching for the knife.

I cut myself repeatedly.

I want to take my life.

I grab the pills that lay on my desk,

sobbing even more.

It's not your fault, but when you left,

My heart is what you tore.

Clutching the pills so tightly,

I shed not another tear,

I pop the pills down in my throat.

I spit them out with fear.

The blood on my arms has dried.

I crawl back in my bed.

I close my eyes, I fall asleep.

Tonight, I am not dead.

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