Delicate black-silver links of chain,
Like the scales of a reptile,
Loop their intricate pattern of hollow metal,
Around my scarred and bleeding wrist.
Each thin, silver loop,
Is dyed to blackening crimson,
Interwoven, tangled with thread,
From plastic stitches they sew to try and save,
Somebody who won't be saved.
I watch as blood and tepid water,
Slithers and flows over the smooth, shining surface,
Of the glinting silver blade,
Like red and translucent serpents.
I carefully scissor my life away,
I don't feel any regret, there's no fear,
Just an overwhelming silence,
That coils around my bleeding throat,
And chokes me to death like a snake.