For I used to ponder, How can a person so full of life Erase their own traces of existence? As if the sun and the earth could burst, Yet never would I think such thoughts, I whisper to myself. As the blood trickles down my wrist, How cold it feels, Blood leaking from a flower So full of life and butterflies. “I could never do that,” I scream into the shadows, Eyes drowning in oceans of tears. So when you ask me, Would you ever? I still dare to mutter no, As if these very lips Weren’t begging God To end it all.