Suicide, a comfort to inner death

I'm wounded  in many ways.
My insides are shattered and tangled
broken into unfixable pieces.
A web of painful nothingness
is all I've ever seemed to be.

My outer shell isn't much different in comparrison.
I am marred by scars
each and every one self inflicted.
Holes and depths in me,
voids of flesh that will never grow back.

Broken and empty on the inside,
damaged and scarred on the outside.
Ravaged beyond repair.

Loved by no one not even myself.
All I want to do is take my own life,
Put an end to all these tangled thoughts.

I'm already dead inside,
If I bleed out my tears long enough
I might fall into an emotionless sleep
and hopefully never awake from it.