i know it was wrong

this poem is about slitting your wrists and all the emotions that come along with doing it

Scared.
Not knowing who to trust.
Unable talk to anyone, except the one I love.

Shaking.
Unable to stop my quivering body.

The knife feels cold against my wrist.
A second of pain, then relief overcomes it.
Red blood drips from my wrist to the floor.

I feel a warm tear falling down my cheeks, not from the pain, but from all the emotions flowing through my head.

Confusion.
Hate.
Love.
Fear.
Embarrasement.
Relief.

I don’t know what to think of what I’ve just done.
I know it was wrong, but it felt so right.