I take a shaky breath
As I stand on the edge of the cliff
The cliff of my end, my death
Is this the end? I ask. I doubt it.

Pull it
Pull the string
The bloody string that will end it
With the light of the morning
As I hang I think
With disdain, the bloody string
Changed who I am

I take a step further as the man
Takes a step closer in
I gasp in pain and think...
I think To myself in the dirt and sand
Is this the end? I doubt it.

Cut it
Cut the string tied on my neck
Have a knife cut the throat of the victim with it
Have the blood spring out and watch it paint the ground black and red
In those last moments I think in the desperate gasp for life
In the end it came down to that string that hung from my neck
Again that bloody string ended it.

As I am pushed
I feel the breeze greet me on my dying day oh how I envy it
They forced me down and shushed
My cries as I shout my hatred and my disdain
My final words were angered and hushed
“Is this the end? I doubt it!”

Touch it
Touch the killing string that marks the day I died
Feel it and its softness for it
Will not last long and no I shall not lie
In the moonlight I can feel it coming
despair wrapping around my feet and forcing thoughts unto me
I touch the string & am forced to embrace it
And in the moonlight, all that reflects is a bloody tear in a dead eye
In the end it came to this.

I swallow the blood,
Tasting it and its danger
I watch them with strange eyes as they star at me wishing
In the silence of the night
And then I choke & they watch me in the ballroom that isn't a ballroom
I fall from the chair and choke out my last words
“Is this the end?”
But though I saw the red coming I had to doubt it.

Do you see the string?
The string is tied around my neck right now
It is scarlet and black and when you see it, your heart will feel my pain
It is tied in a bow
On the side of my neck and the string ends are dead
If you see the string and watch it closely you can see it getting shorter as I draw low
And in the moonlight it finally catches flame and dies as the morning birds sing
I felt the string leave my neck as the moon reflected teary eyes and I silently watched the show
And of course it all came down to this
And it ended with the bloody red string.

So every time you think of this
You should know you started it
Every day, every hour, every moment something comes to this
It is because of what you did to us every day
Every insult and "little" favor pulls upon this string
Every sadness, push and second of despair burns a little more of it away
The next time you decide that you need a doll to hurt for a happy ping inside
You should think of this and the string around your neck on every dying day
The next time you decide to tug maybe you should ask, “Is this the end?”
Because sometimes when you doubt it
You were wrong and they died...