End game

The feeling of relief,
As the blade crossed my wrist.
As burning red hot blood,
Drips slowly off clenched fists.

My life flows freely,
The heart losing its rate.
No more depressing worries,
Nothing to contemplate.

As darkness closes in,
I see no faraway light.
Everything turning black,
Rendering lost of sight.

Fiery pain stabs my soul,
Burns as I scream in pain,
Knowing where I am now,
For here I shall remain.

Written by Humble Bill Beucher