The Final Cut

I look out at life; it seems so tragic,

Now all I see is black and gray,

It's like I'm cursed by ebony magic,

Blinded by the black of the day,

Feeling the anguish of my afterlife,

Seeing crimson across the sky,

Drowning forever in eternal strife,

Only if someone heard my cry,

I sit in the corner,

Crying but no one can hear me,

Sitting in agony,

Wanting life sucked away from me,

Looking out the window,

But all to see is the shadow,

I walk the Earth to see all the anguish,

Hoping for death as my last wish,

Wishing in vain for my sweat remission,

This to be my last decision,

In grief I look out to the barren land,

Then I see the cuts at my arms,

I fall to the ground to weep in the sand,

I grab the knife, robbed of life's charms,

I see my face in fear,

A look of torment in the mirror,

Waiting for precious rest,

Holding the dagger to my chest,

Even in the black night,

Its blade glimmers with hope and light,

Birds in the hollow, trees in the meadow,

They all look to me in sorrow,

Black in the sky with the night moving in,

Preparing for my final sin,

Tears in my eyes with the knife to my hand,

I watch the blood drip to the sand,

One final gesture, my throat I sever,

Living in blessed death forever,

Shimmering in the day,

My blood gradually flows away,

My soul floats to the sky,

Away from its prison it flies,

I see my final dawn,

Weeping I sing my final song.