As I walk by it, it's silver gleam seems to taunt me. The Swiss Army knife I have had since I was small, looks appealing as always. As I hear the sound of a slap landing, and crying, I pick up the familiar blade. I run my finger along its edge, as usual. I raise it to my wrist, but then doubt suffocates me. I think of my friends, my siblings, the good things in the world, and I put down the object. "Coward!" it seems to scream at me as I walk away. I glance at my skin littered with scars and I know not yet. Maybe someone will hear my silent screams tomorrow. Maybe someone will know that my smile is fake, and help me. I won't do it. Not today...
