I stepped in the elevator on my deepest of days.
Thinking of the sorrow I've endured for years.
Thinking about the scars on my wrists and stomach.
Thinking about why they are there.
Thinking about why I never stopped.
Thinking about why I never cry.
Thinking about why I'm always numb.
Thinking about why I'm alone.
Thinking about why there was never the perfect friend.
Thinking about why I was so different from everyone.
Thinking about why I ever told anyone about the scars.
Thinking about the glory of only one being aware of my wrists.
Thinking about the horror of hiding.
Thinking about why I ever hesitated to take my life.
Thinking about why I never let him go.
Thinking about why he ever let me go.
Thinking about why I never changed my life.
Thinking about the days I've wanted to live.
Thinking about the days I've wanted to die.
And the man in the elevator asked, "Going down?"
All I had to say was yes, and it would all be over.
"Yes."
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