Sick Of The Pain. Poem by Alexis Weiermann

There's blood that drips from my wrist.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to do it.

My bed's a bloody mess.
I didn't mean to.
I'm so sorry.

The pain inside just hurt so much.
I had to ease some of it.
And the physical pain did just that.

My clothes are dark red, nearly black.
My face is pale.
I'm sorry.
I just got so sick of the pain.

The bath water is red.
Red with my blood.
Maybe I'll drown in this tub.

My body is scarred as I sit in this hospital bed.
I look at you,
Tears are rolling down your face.
'I'm so sorry.' I say.
'I'll get better. I promise.'
You take my hand, kiss it then say,
'I know. I know you will.
You're never leaving my sight again.'

Everything is black.
I wonder if I'm dead.
I open my eyes,
And there you are,
Holding me tight.