I press my forehead on the window,
And through it watch children,
Playing on the lawn.

Desolation pulses through my veins,
And my futile fingers reach out for guidance
I savor the blade, sinking deeper than blue.

I can taste tranquility for a wavering instance
The anger flows down my arm as the bitter black blood
Burns off my fingertips.

Death swims before me in hazy illusion,
Images of eternity skip shamelessly through my mind,
Pain surrounds, I am resolved to be - still.

I run my hand on the tear stained window,
And distorted through it,
Watch children playing on the lawn.