4.30.12

sitting.

i am

sitting.

feeling everything

slipping away.

and she's

cutting.

i'm useless.

unable to help.

unable to hope.

i can't argue against

myself.

her reasons,

my reasons,

are perfectly valid.

her justifications

my own.

i hate it.

i can do

nothing.

so i sit,

wishing i could

cry,

because cutting

doesn't seem right

this time.