Running down, A jagged blade, White knuckles, Shake in fear. Whispers call out, Why, Why, Why did you do this. I can't tell them. Not my family, Friends, Even spirits who comfort my dreams, Only the ghosts who haunt me. A wet drop falls onto my pale skin, Leaving behind a trail of red as it quietly moves down my arm, The knife clatters to the floor, into the pooling, maroon blood from the victim. /My/ victim. Why did I do this? I don't know. Maybe I never will. All I felt was panic, A scream of pain turning into, The opposite of music, He said it would be beautiful! Liar. Can't Trust Anyone. Fingers shake, spreading throughout my body And I fall into the pool. The fear overcame me. This, unstable, liquid, fear. What is fear? I don't know that. All I know, is that the victim, My victim, Me, Is gone. And now I'll die peacefully, Taking a bath in liquid fear, For eternity.
TRIGGER WARNING!! I am someone you can talk too. Same as: Parents, Friends, Cousins and aunts and uncles, Counselors, Teachers, Therapists, Doctors, And so many more. We are all here for you, and don't give up because I bet that one person in this whole world loves you. Whether that love be shown or not. Talk before you do <//3 Or at least try for the people who love you and you love.
