The Blindfold of Laughter

I thought I was fine, but then the wanting came, a strange desire to die, though death itself I fear. Looking back, all I see, a life I wish to end. The crimson lines upon my wrist, a shallow, empty embrace. They cannot fill the void, the chasm of past mistakes. I beg of God, let it be done, yet only long for heartache's cease. The void they left, the pain, I hide it all away, a mask to keep them blind, while all I crave is to be gone.