• Blinking

    I close my eyes for no more than a few seconds,
    Rummaging through my desolate memories,
    Searching for the thoughts of my lost happiness,
    For some insignia of anything but this…
    This treachery, this agonizing pain.
    All for you.

    My mind races so quickly everything becomes a blur—
    Like a dream.
    I suddenly remember a vivid image from long ago;
    When all hope was allegedly lost,
    We ran.
    We ran in the deadest of night escaping at last.
    Together, we were in darkness,
    Running before the full moon’s judging eyes,
    Tasting freedom’s sweet breath,
    We found happiness.

    I open my eyes, mesmerized,
    The light shining ahead, blinding me instantly.
    This sweet dream, quickly distorting to a bitter nightmare.
    I see us now,
    So alike, yet so painfully apart.
    I, wallowing in self pity and the blackness that is life.
    While you, so beautiful, standing there, looking desperately into the mirror,
    As the shard of broken glass glitters in the dim light.

    Never breaking your gaze with the troubled reflection,
    You hold out your wrist,
    As a puppet being moved by its strings.
    Looking down, you now focus intently on your pale skin,
    Riddled with winding blue veins.
    Clutching the shard tightly in your right hand,
    You put it to your thin, cold, skin.
    Applying just enough force,
    You quickly slit through you delicate skin.
    The pristine crystal, so perfectly clear,
    Now stained with your ruby red blood,
    Secreting from your wrist,
    Forming a small puddle on the floor.

    But not a thing do you feel,
    So jaded and apathetic.
    You do it again.
    And again. And again—
    Your hand covered in the bright red innocence now lost.
    It glistens and grows,
    Slipping from your fingertips to the floor.
    The lacerations now stretching all up your forearm…
    You look up into the mirror and smile,
    Pleased with yourself.

    Oblivious to how your sick pleasure affects those around you,
    You soak up the blood with the same old towel.
    And retreat to bed, where you sleep like a baby.
    You feel no remorse for what you’ve done,
    And what you’re doing to those who truly care.

    You tell us you don’t feel a thing.
    That you haven’t changed a bit;
    That you’re the same old you.
    We watch quietly as you do this to yourself,
    And we pray that what you say is false—
    For if this has always been the real you then we have all been cruelly blind sighted.

    We that love you and care more than anyone,
    Are the ones who truly understand the dire consequences;
    The consequences of your unknowing actions—
    And we all fear the worst.
    All of us knowing how anxiously Death awaits behind every door.

    We all know your reasoning—
    However ignorant it may be.
    But a young life is a horrible thing to lose;
    No matter what the circumstance.

    We all beg you to stop;
    Though you feel nothing.
    We all wish for you to return.
    The real you.

    No matter what you say, think or do,
    We shall always care for you.
    You will always be welcomed with open arms,
    Until the day you die.

    In horror, I close my eyes,
    Attempting to efface the fresh memory of that look on your face,
    I close my eyes and try to forget the monster you’ve become.
    I close my eyes, only to see you,
    Smiling grimly into the mirror—
    Death, smiling straight back in the distance.

    I try to shut my bloodshot eyes tighter and tighter,
    The image only growing more and more vivid—
    The mirror, the shard of glass, your tortured face, the blood…
    This nightmare burned into my skull forever,
    As I try to blink back the tears you cause me.
    What was then, is now a long lost memory.
    What is now a living Hell.
    A nightmare, tattooed to my brain.
    A scar amongst my memories of you,
    Of what you were,
    What you used to be;
    Before you became this monster.