Suicide
It's always on my mind.
I grab a razor,
And make a very fine line.

Blood flows down
Out of my veins.
Dripping and flowing
Pouring like rain.

Why do I do this?
It makes me so mad.
When I realize what I'm doing,
I get very sad.

My life is a chain,
One problem after another.
Sometimes I just want to end it
So there will be no other.