The canvas to my self-inflicted pain

Please do not read if themes of suicide or self harming will offend or upset you.

As I take the blade that saves me from insanity,
I inspects its smooth, piercing sharp edge that I dearly crave.

Pressing the blade against my scarred and damaged skin,
The razor, my dear friend, cuts into my skin.
A pearl of ruby blood emerges from the wound, dropping to the floor.

All the pain, hatred and tension is released from my body in that second,
A heavy sigh emits from my mouth,
Closing my eyes enjoying the rush of excitement.

Gasping as I feel the second entry wound,
Another sphere of fresh blood crashes to the carpet.
Whilst embracing the relief, I look down to my wrist,
I stop and wonder about those veins travelling along my damaged arm.

Could it be that simple?
Could it be over?
The solution to my pain?

Author's Note

This is one of my first 'poems', please leave feedback, good or bad and any suggestions.