Options.

iii. The fresh cuts on my wrist
Look like nothing.
Would I have the guts
To give myself
The final cut?
Watching the skin peel apart
As the blade swipes,
And watching the blood
Gush out…
I long to see
My blood pour out of my body
And create a puddle
On the tiled floor;
The idea intrigues me so greatly.
My vision would be filled
With such a lovely red
Before seeing black.

But how long would it be
Before someone
Realized what I was doing
And smashed through the door?
Would they think my
Puddle of blood
Is beautiful too,
Like I would?