Still not quite enough

Red droplets glisten as they run,
still not quite enough;
to pull me back screaming
into that world of mistaken souls.

Searching for unobtainable emotion
that you read about in fairy tales,
carved to mislead you with pretty
words and fair maidens.
Overlooking the sharp toothed
and serpent tongued,
whom crawl among the mortals.

Breathing is a foreign sensation,
dying is an aspiration.
They say suicide is a sin,
yet why do they temp us so?
Stealing away the secrets to
happiness then destroying the
flood barriers that used to hold
all the torment back.

Now we drown in the trembling ripples.
Telling us its wrong to die that way,
whilst piling dirt onto our coffins.
Red droplets glisten as they run,
still not quite enough