Rid of Me
My blood drips down, ruby and red
As a tear rolls down my cheek.
I take in a breath and let out a sigh
As I whisper my very last words.
The knife falls from my hand and clatters to the floor
As my now limp body falls.
I hit the ground with a sad smile
For the world has rid itself of me.
By Karen Nicholson, Zelienople, Pennsylvania, US
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