When My Line Goes Flat

I'll teach you how to rhyme,
while I have some time.

Before my last breath,
and my slow, painful death.

I lay in this hospital bed,
because my arms bled red.

And now they'll try to send me away,
"It's your fault", They'll say.

But it's not,
it's the tears you brought.

But the cuts, won't stop bleeding,
will you continue reading?

I cut to see bone,
and let out heavy groans.

It didn't hurt,
it looked almost like dirt.

And now I slowly die,
but I won't have to hear anymore of your lies.

So will you cry for me?
Please, don't, I plea.

Then I'll feel bad,
because you're sad.

I know you're really not,
but thanks for giving it a shot.

It was a nice chat,
but my line is going flat.

Goodbye, my friend,
who knows when we shall meet again.