a thread of hope
looking in the mirror, she is a disgrace to herself.
tears stain her cheeks as she cries black tears of hate for herself.
with her back against the wall, she bites her lip as
a sort of relief (just another way to cause pain).
she's running out of room on her arms and she's trying
to find another way to let her anger out
(a pitiful sort of sorrow that no one else can see).
and lately, she has learned how to become invisible
because even in a crowded room, she feels alone
and she knows it's not supposed to be like this.
she is living a life of denial (denying that she is just too afraid)
and the world is crumbling in her (blood-stained) hands
(which smell too much like vomit).
glancing around, she falls to the floor and hits cold tile,
moving the blood-drenched towels and using it to clean her face
that leave streaks of blood (painting her to be oh-so beautiful
because it can't happen any other way).
and she can't help but see that she has nothing left to live for
and she knows where the gun is (taunting her even from so far away)
but no, the parents are home and surely,
they would send her back to the therapist where she'll cry tears
like the pain is really nothing and she didn't mean to do it
(even though she would rather be dead.)
but she doesn't want to find herself there again –
it's a waste of one day of her week where she could be
doing other things (like dreaming of death).
she doesn't want everyone to see how weak she is
(even though she's f a l l i n g a p a r t on the inside).
all of the strength and hope that she had left has
d r i p p e d from her already bloody wrists.
she's looking for a way to escape it all but she doesn't want
the gun to be her only option because she's heard what
people have said (a permanent solution to a temporary problem).
and this "problem" seems to be permanent because she's felt
like this for such a long time that she's lost count
of the months but remembers when it all started.
she doesn't want to go back to who she used to be because
it'll all end up being just pretend
(she's tired of being a fake but that's all she can be).
she knows that she can't go on like this
and something in the back of her mind is telling her
that there's a thread of hope, something worth living for.
and a smile finds its way across her face
because she can see herself telling them all
that they have done for her in helping her realize
that she is never alone (though hundreds of times she's felt it).
and she knows that without them, she would surely be dead.
and she doesn't want to lose hope in herself for losing hope in them.
she bites her tongue and says, "how foolish," as she d r a g s
the blade across her wrists for one last time (tonight).
and she mumbles, "i'm sorry," for nobody to hear.
January 14, 2006