Deserted

The blood runs down my hands,
As my heart clenches in agony

My face is wet from tears,
My breathing rapid and shallow

I ask myself "why?"
Was I not good enough?

I sit in a cold and dreary room,
alone and deserted

The knife is in my hand,
A bottle of pills laying next to me

As I get onto my knees,
I scream into the echoing room...

"If there really is a God,
Then why does he let me be tortured like this??"

My voice starts to fade as I drop,
"What have I done so wrong?"

My face is pale,
As my skin grows cold

My body lays still on the tile floor,
And my eyes slowly turn to glass