The Blade

They are one.
The blade and him.
When he puts it to his wrist.
He pushes down,
It cuts deep.
But not as deep
As his other pain.
The pain of rejection.
The pain of depression.
His body starts to tingle.
And he gets a rush.
He starts to cry.
But not from the pain of the blade,
From the pain of his sorrows.
He stops the bleeding.
Puts the blade away.
He knows this  is wrong.
Yet he does it again.
And the cycle continues.
Until he finds a gun,
Puts it to his head
So they are one.