Ice

Her mood was dark and self-destructive,
She lay alone in the dusk of the evening,
The joyful sound of children playing she found intrusive,
Found solace in thoughts of destroying her being.

Subconsciously, she had always committed acts of self-sabotage,
Friendships, work and love she always lost, destroyed without realising,
Being totally happy she could never envisage,
Now she lies there and of ways to end it she is dreaming.

The cold knife lies like ice in her hand,
Her feelings numb as though cut off by a rubber band,
She stares into space knowing the time is here,
The time when she can escape, but to go where?

Slowly she raises the knife to her throat,
She sits at the mirror watching her expression,
Waiting for it to change, to soften, not to gloat,
It stays unchanged, as had her life, gripped by depression.

The steel touches her throat and she doesn’t flinch,
Are there regrets about this, maybe just a pinch?
Still her hand stays firm and steady,
She knows in her heart that for this she’s now ready.

More pressure she puts upon the knife,
Knowing that this will end her life,
She watches her life blood flow like a river,
But she's hoping that to peace she will be delivered.

No more will she feel the sadness inside,
No more will she worry of her hurt pride,
Only will there darkness be,
Her mind of trouble will finally be free.

Liz