Shallow breathes turn to shaky heaves.
I remember my tears and look down at my sleeves.
I look up at the ceiling in hopes that it will end.
This razor is not my friend.
I get up off my knees and throw the blade aside.
I look up and see my reflection; there's no where to hide.
My eyes are red from the stain of my tears.
No sob escapes; it would hurt my ears.
My throat closes tightly.
The light above me illuminates brightly.
Who am I if I can't make a change?
I feel like nothing and no one; yes, I agree with myself hat I'm strange.
This long poem isn't worth anyone's time.
It's just the empty coping of my mind.
I'm relieved that it's only daytime.
The reason to accept myself is so difficult to find.
Maybe someday I'll find it.
Until then I'll try my best not to take a hit.
