Blade of Depression

I sit and stare, The morning light seeming to glare, Shadows dance across my face, As if reminding me that I'm a disgrace, I see the blade in my hand, A steady reference to the sand, The thrill of desire runs down my spine, As if it were something of divine, I trail the blade across my thigh, Shivering with delight and a sweet sigh, Certain calmness fills my soul, The deepest darkness of coal, Drifting away with a peaceful end, Until the time comes to cut again.