The blood-stained hands, the blood-stained knife. The mind is willing, to end your life. The demons inside causing nothing to feel, but the blood-stained knife is oh so real. Having known no love, having been shown no compassion. Some things you just do, without any question. The time is near, the end is nye. My body-motionless, ready to die. The knife pierces my lungs, I cry, but don't scream. My mom-I see with my eyes, that are now a glossy gleam. The last things I hear, to my surprise. Are the voices of those I loved, along with a thousand cries. Have I been wrong? Oh god, what have I done? I thought I was hurting myself, the truth is, I was hurting everyone else....
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