Poems on Cutting/Death/Suicide

Pretty Picture
Spinning rooms
eyes a blur
losing control
of this I am sure.

Glass is broken
all over the floor
no one will know
for I shut the door.

Pretty pictures
all in a row
why I do this
I do not know.

This time I will
fill it all in
each and every picture
to the very end.

The color that I am using
is dark crimson red
on my palette I have plenty
won't run out until I'm dead.

You walk in
see a smile on my face
look at my arms and legs
at all the pictures that I traced.

No need to call the doctor
I've ran out of color
my pretty picture is finished
better call the coroner.

Symbolism
Black clouds of deceit,
A grave tale of symbolism,
But nobody knows what it means
As she dawns her newly cut skin,
Streamers of dark red,
Her eyes tell a tale of unbearable pain,
As she sets her razor,
Down by her side,
Precious drips of pain,
Stream down the very body she calls her own,
No one will ever understand.

Flurries
I cut to see the red,
But I do not bleed,
For I am already dead.
I see the light in the farthest of distances.
It is diming as my mind and future fades away.
I can't hold on any longer,
because I fear what will happen.
But I also am hesitant,
To begin an etrenal sleep for what dreams may come.
Nothing stays with me.
Ambitions die and people abandon,
To leave you alone in the coldest part of your soul.
Sometimes I feel as if it were winter in my mind all the time. Life is so cold,
And once the sun begins to shine,
A flurry of snow,
Blocks your vision once more.
Freezing and isolating you,
In the serine nothingness,
Of the never ending blanket of snow.

Sigh
Destroy the sickness lingering in me.
Purged the thoughts of nothingness,
Cut my losses,
And delved a little deeper into dark.

Destroy the hunger tearing me inside.
Closed my eyes to see the pain
Cried myself to sleep again
A masochist with nothing to believe.

Dead here on the bathroom floor I lie.
Never thought I'd see this place
Scratch my anguish on my face
And leave this world with nothing but a sigh.