The Last Cut

I'm just running from all my problems,
and there's nowhere to turn.
Only one option to choose,
when will I ever learn?

That physical pain is taking
place for the emotional one.
With all the pain and
isolation,I'm through.I'm done.

With every cut, stab, scar,
I feel different each day.
One day I'm happy to be alive,
and the next,I want to drown in the bay.

With each cut, the blade sinks deeper,
when a razor and wrist bicker like husband and wife.
now that the razor has won this fight,it's all over.
This poem will be as short as my life.

Poem by Claire.

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