These Wrists Have Bled

I never held a gun against my head.
I never took a whole bottle right before bed.
I never tied a noose that turned my throat red.
But my, oh my, how these wrists have bled.

I've seldom looked off buildings hoping just to fall.
Never been recklessly heroic to the wonderment of all.
I've never dropped to my knees and prayed to wake up dead.
But good God almighty, how these wrists have bled.

I've lived with faith and spiritual belief.
I've had shoulders to cry on in times of grief.
I always try to stop the endless flow of red,
but try as I might, these wrists have bled.