The Irony of Self Mutilation and Suicide

Cut the memories out of my flesh.
Yes, that's what I wish I could do.
Disect the hurtful memories of my old life
So I can move on with the new.
Slide the blade across my skin.
Feel the cut go deeper than before.
Watch in agonizing bliss
As my ruby haunts drip to the floor.
Each crimson drop; a ghost to be forgotten.
The growing pool; my exorcised pain.
I honestly have nothing else left to lose,
And I believe that I have nothing else to gain.
Drip...there goes the friends that loved then lied.
Drip...there goes the night I lost my car.
Drip...there goes the drugs I took everyday.
Drip...there goes all the days in the bar.
Drip...there goes half of my soul.
Drip...there goes the light in my eyes.
Drip...there goes the family that fell apart.
Drip...there goes the innocence that died.
Drip...there goes all the abuse I took.
Drip...there goes the woman who didn't know.
Drip...there goes all the time that was lost.
Drip...now I walk the lonely road.
I can now bathe in the memories I wanted gone.
And, at last, I realize
That though these thoughts hurt so bad,
They're really what has kept me alive.
I try in vain to put it all back.
My terminal breath is a laugh.
I finally got rid of what was killing me,
But it still took my life in the last.