These wounds have long since healed,

But these scars insist

On retelling the story.

Retelling the pain and loneliness.

Announcing to the world

That a person, so tall,

Had fallen so deep.

So deep in the hole of despair.

Drowning. Sinking.

Slitting his wrists,

Praying they'd become gills.

But watching them bleed.

Oxygen rich blood

Escaping a tragedy.

Escaping me.


Who could blame it?