Blade cuts the barren land
Like a fountain, shoots
Out to the desert around
Crimson red.
The cutter stares at his hands
Wondering what took him
As life gushes out of him
And onto his clothes.
The note lies
On the table
Signed in blood.
He lies down in wait
For the inevitable
To end his misery.
Pic
https://unsplash.com/photos/irVfITbMJZw
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