"Why can't you save anyone?"

There was purple scars on his left arm, and a hospitable band on his right wrist.

There was a razor blade hidden inside of his phone.

He ripped into his skin, so deeply that it bled for hours.

"It hurt so much. But I just wanted to go deeper," he said. He was crying; but he kept going.

He kept going.


___________________________________




I don't know what to say, I never did.
There's nothing to fight away, nothing to hit, nothing to convince to leave.

 It's all inside of them.

Their faces pulled toward the ground just little harder then they did
two years ago, their eye lids begging to be closed.

Their bodies ache, but they pace and pace
until they memorize the creaks in the floor boards.
When will they rest?

They pull at their skin. They pull at their clothes.
Their thoughts scream through their heads.
They beg them to stop.

But it never will.