Razorblade

HAHAHAHAHAHHA!

Like a razor against my skin, a dagger in my soul.

Blood spilling against the white tub, the memory of their laughter, the gleam of ridicule in their eyes.

Dribbling into the water, creating a swirl and a design, in the red of my blood and clean, clear water of the tub.

I am death.

I am the charriott, he drives the horse, he smashes the window to enter and I lay still watching hiim.

Hooded he stands over me, eyes black and soulless, he whispers softly in my ear, that the pain has only begun, the laughter only getting started.

I close my eyes, exhausted, no strength and my head falls to side.

I am death.

I am dead.