Suicide - Wilting Rose

A blob of deep red seeping from my arm.
So pretty.
Don't worry, I won't do any lasting harm.
I'm sensible.
The cuts get deeper as the days go by.
It doesn't hurt.
The more blood lost, the less tears cried.
I never cry now.
People are saying I'm going mad.
I'm not.
Maybe I am, is it normal to feel this bad?
Of course.
This time is really confusing me.
Don't panic.
You can't escape from it; there's nowhere to flee.
So fight it.
Scars spread ever closer to my wrist.
What's happening?
I know what to do, I can't miss.
No, don't.
Searing pain shooting up my spine.
Make it stop.
A dizzy head – but I'm feeling fine.
Don't fall.
There's a lot of red on the floor.
Like a carpet.
I don't think I can stand up anymore.
Then sit.
Head spinning crazily, I can hear bells.
Getting quiet now.
Is this it? Am I freed from my living hell?
. . .