The Clock strikes 12

The silver blade slips from my hand as the clock in my room strikes 12

A stream of red rolls down my arm

4 glistening red drops of the liqiud falls to my tile floor

Tears start to roll down my cheeks

I have just grasped the reality of what I have done

I am going to die

I start sobbing uncontrollable now

The wind whistle past my window as i count down the mintues I have left

The river of blood continues to stream.

I wish I could take…I could take it all back

I settle myself onto the floor and prepare to die

My world start to close in on me

I can only hear one sound…my slowing down heart

As I slip away I think…

By DarkEssence

Karah live in florida...not the brightest...hyperavctive....lost inside myself...n thoughts often deadli....Seriously