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My Torment

This torment is my torture,

A never ending suffering.

Alcohol only a temporary diversion,

Only one true way to end it all.

A blade with a jagged edge,

Fumbling in my hands,

Waiting for it's first taste of blood.

I slowly lye the cold metal against my skin,

A chilling surge rushes through me.

The blade waiting anxiously,

As my shaking fingers grasp the hilt.

I push down,

Forcing the blade through my skin.

Blood rushing to the surface,

My arm drenched in a deep red.

The world begins to spin rapidly,

I fall to the ground in a blur.

A pool of blood surrounding my wound,

Too weak to raise my limbs.

Unable to grasp my reality,

I close my eyes.

The darkness terrifying,

Waiting for the unknown.

My breathing slowing to a shallow gasp,

I know this life is almost over.

Now it's time to sleep,

Drift off and leave this place.

Submitted: Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013


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Comments about this poem (My Torment by Mitchell Barron )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (5/1/2013 6:43:00 AM)

    now it is time to go for ever.

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