Deadly Game

A poem I wrote in the first person from the point of veiw of a person who has just violently cut themselves.
It has rather a lot of blood

Knife falls to the ground, so slowly it falls
Too late, my blood drips down the walls
Scars down my arm, will they ever heal?
Cuts up my arm, soon I will feel
My body rebels at my destruction
Causing this pain, a deadly suction
I'm falling now, fall to the ground
Clash of knife, the only sound
Bloody body, is all I see
Deep, painful cuts, I made on me
My senses twisted, left alone
My body withers, its silent moan
The pain I have, just isn't real
An illusion, I think I feel
My arm is ragged, torn apart
I know my cuts, this isn't smart
I wish I could escape from this
My chance at joy, the chance I miss
If only I escaped myself
Stuck this pain right on a shelf
I could not reach, my only aim
This bloody battle, this deadly game
These are my thoughts as I fade away
My final thoughts, my final day

The End

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