Crimson

The moon is high tongiht,

while I bid my life good-bye

I take a knife,

and slit my wrists

The blood flows down my arms,

and dripps off of my elbows

Making pools of crimson

Only a few minutes,

then I'll peacefully sleep

No more tears,

no more cares

Just a quiet afterlife

As I lay on the ground,

I let my wrists bleed

Until the last drops of blood slowly flws to the pools of crimson

Then I finally breathe in my last breath,

and say good-bye to life

Then I slowly fade into the afterlife