And the Petals Fall | ✔

Two and a half years

___

Two and a half years ago

Was the last time I picked up the blade

To scrape my skin and my woes

And make my pain clot in the blood.

Now when I need an outfall,

I don't reach out for my sharpener,

Or scissors,

Or the blade that was under the glue stick;

Instead,

I let myself break

And fall apart

Until I am consumed whole by my despondency.

The pain never really goes,

But I still can lessen it,

So with a little bit of grit,

I play along with my sorrow,

To live for a tomorrow,

And not for the blades that I threw away.

___