"... I am ready."
You stand there,
your eyes
transfixed with the
image of yourself
in the broken mirror
before you.
Your fingers keep
tracing the sharp
edges,
though not even
the sting of the cuts
can distract you
from your thoughts,
your regrets that you
never told anyone
what you truly felt.
But would they have
cared,
you keep asking your-
self,
over and over again
as the gashes
deepen and the blood
thickens.
Why would they care,
you silently wonder
as you reach with
your bloody hands
towards the mirror,
dragging your fingers
down the cold glass,
watching your image
as it is tainted with
the red liquid.
The door to the room
creaks open,
but you do not even
bother to turn around,
for as you feel hands
running over your body,
you do not have the power
to do anything,
but slip into oblivion.
your eyes
transfixed with the
image of yourself
in the broken mirror
before you.
Your fingers keep
tracing the sharp
edges,
though not even
the sting of the cuts
can distract you
from your thoughts,
your regrets that you
never told anyone
what you truly felt.
But would they have
cared,
you keep asking your-
self,
over and over again
as the gashes
deepen and the blood
thickens.
Why would they care,
you silently wonder
as you reach with
your bloody hands
towards the mirror,
dragging your fingers
down the cold glass,
watching your image
as it is tainted with
the red liquid.
The door to the room
creaks open,
but you do not even
bother to turn around,
for as you feel hands
running over your body,
you do not have the power
to do anything,
but slip into oblivion.
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