Self Pity

Cuts run up my arms and trail back down,
One by one I cut and frown.
What's that sound?
It's called self pity,
My conscience is trying to tell me this won't be so pretty.
I cry, sob, and moan for the part,
Where I slit my throat and die in the dark.
I'm scared, thinking I'm ready.
'Til I slice a bit, and my blood starts draining.
It's all over, I'm dead.

-Mae Sinclaire