Have you ever held a knife to your throat?
Felt that freezing blade against your skin?
Did you shake,
Feeling your fingers freeze in response?
Have you ever wanted,
To push down,
Not hard enough to scar,
Hard enough to kill?
Have you ever just stayed motionless,
Trying to find the strength to make the lethal move?
Have you ever willed yourself to push,
Because you knew it would lead to death?
Have you ever tried too
But found you couldn't?
Did you drop the knife,
Feeling it bounce off your legs,
Before hitting the blue of your carpet?
Have you ever just sat there,
Staring at the fallen blade,
Feeling the place where it had rested,
Not two moments ago?
Have you ever felt so weak,
Because you couldn't do it,
Staring at the blade,
That just seems to be mocking you?
Have you ever felt your eyes,
Burn with tears of shame,
Because you're still breathing,
And that knife's not bloody?
Did you just pick up the knife,
Wrap it up in that old bandana,
Place it back in the desk drawer,
And try to forget?
Do you still hate yourself for being so weak,
Because you couldn't kill yourself,
With that knife?
That knife that will cut you,
But will not kill?
That knife that will draw blood,
But not enough?
That knife that you still use,
But can't look at the same,
Because you weren't strong enough?
You want to blame the knife,
For your weakness,
But you know it's your fault,
And you can't go back,
And you can't try again,
Because you can't face the humiliation of failure,
Have you ever been to that place?
Have you ever?
You say no,
But I have.