Sin-ical

Cynical

No one cares
when I cry;
if the piercing razor
let's me die.
But my fingers are crossed
and hopes too high.
All my life
is one big sigh
and how am I
supposed to explain this?
This forever lust
to feel your gentle lips?
When I close my eyes,
I pray each night to simply die -
pass away with no regrets,
with no return,
and no back steps.
If you were here,
I'd be okay but
I'm all alone,
with my streaking tears.
Endless years
of my life,
it's not so hard
to take a knife
and twist it on
my bare and open skin.
What's the point?
I'm already a living sin.