quarter to twelve.

i wish i could kill myself tonight--

with my eyes so dark and sharp--

to see if i could still feel pain,

to see if i could still bleed.

i wish i could kill myself tonight--

with my words like perilous knives--

to see if i could keep my heart at rest,

to see if i could keep the numbness in my chest.

i wish i could kill myself tonight--

with my own blooded hands--

to see if i could stop the quivering it caused,

to see if i could move it like the old times.

i wish i could kill myself tonight--

with a death song i composed myself--

to see if anyone could hear my pleas,

to see if you could listen for just a moment.

i wish i had the guts to kill myself last night,

so i won’t be able to write this piece;

so you won’t be able to read this piece.

i wish...you prayed for me.