Traci Baxter Poet I do not know?

Hatred of Myself

I sit in my dark attic room on the dusty floor,
I take a knife in my hand and go across my arm,
Sounds come from the stairway as I watch the blood fall,
I quickly try to hide the knife and get up on my bed,
My mother walks in and she hands me a book and then she leaves the room,
I wipe off my arm and look at the book to see what is says,
It is a book about depression and how to cope,
I throw the book and hit the wall with my fist,
How did she find out and why does she care about what I do,
I get out the knife and I start to cry for now it is the end,
I take the knife and thrust into my chest,
Crimson regret flows onto the floor as I think about my past,
Betrayal and hatred is my past and my future holds the same,
My eyes close and I take my last breath as I leave this world for good,
Hatred of myself still lives though I have passed away.

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