I sit in my room on my bed, a bottle to my left, a knife to my right--rocking, crying screaming. No one's home, just the sound of my crying, screaming, the creaking of my bed as I rock--my arms crossed, holding
I think back to the day, the names, the calls, the pointing--the laughing--harsh, empty, cruel--I think why, why me...what did I do--why so cruel...I smile and walk, my head high, biting back tears--a drip, a taste...blood--pain
The outcast, the imperfect child--the grilling by mom...not good enough for dad...confusion, unknowing of what future tasks life may hold, fear--what do I do...what should I do--one choice--one decision--one option
I grab the bottle--rip--tear--the smell of death, but slow--uncertain, painful. Is this option--no choice--no decision--the way, free--painless
I grab the knife--gleaming--flawless, smiling terribly with jagged teeth--I see, tears, snot, action--quick--messy--certainty
I think back to the day--laughing--pointing, heckling; embarassment--cruelty--unpretty...I'll show them..I'll prove nothings certain--quickly--effortlessly
Ripping--screaming--then silence...drip drip drip--blood flowing smoothly, brightly--quickly; I lay my head down and stare up--smiling softly--serene, peaceful--quiet.
No more tears, no more pain--free--warm, flowing, silent--then black
Finally I am free...
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