Cuts. Bruises. Scars.

Cuts, bruises, and scars seem to stay On my body that begins to sway How deep had I gone? For this grievous deed to be done?

Shouts and cries escaped my lips As blood trickled down my fingertips Tears mixed in with the blood as it fell Curses everyone as I yell

In this sorry state, Nothing resides in my heart but hate Looking around my room I approach the rope of doom

The rope and ceiling meet A sad kiss greeted by each As I stand up on my favorite stool To others I may look like a fool

Standing on my mini-stage I cried More blood trickled down on my side With bloodied hands I held the rope Then placed my neck through the loop