Razor's Edge

You know we can’t all feel right, to have a stable state of mind and a heart strengthened with love.  The sad part is that these small imperfections make us outcasts, unwanted by the occupiers of society. They push you to the side and slap labels on you that keep your head hung and your heart dry, the labels that make you think why you’re even around? What’s the point, they don’t want you and neither do I. It seems like the easy way out and a way to lift the hatred that was blanketed over your life, your feelings, and your vision on life. You start to see red, the shade of red that’s as black as blood but still has the vibrant color that brings out the skin surrounding the wound. It turns into a rush, the blade in between your teeth about to slide against the grain of your hoof, you anticipate the sight of blood.

But now isn’t the time to rant of what we wish could happen, because there isn’t much more I can do than to just think. So I do, I lie there in a puddle of my own blood, growing larger by the second, staring at the ceiling and wondering, why the bathroom? Your mind starts to think of different places it could be other than that, almost like your mind forgets you’re a few pumps away from darkness, or is it darkness? But let’s not go into detail, there’s no point. I’m dying and that’s that, any questions now would be pointless to even acknowledge. So I lie silently in the tub, blood all around and the blade near the drain. My eyelids feel heavy, could this be it? My mind starts to hope, I try to smile at the freedom that im moving towards. My eyes shut, I hear my tears drip into the red sea. It’s finally over, I say it over and over again. It might be the end, but it’s a new beginning, but with everything new there is something old. It’s not the greatest story to tell, but if it helps pass the time then let it be told.