Sometimes I laugh and I feel better.
Sometimes I smile and I look better.
Then depression creeps in.
And I find myself staring at the butcher knife.
It’s so sharp.
It’s so shiny.
There are times I ignore it.
There are times I pick it up.
And I just stare it.

Its beauty is so mesmerizing.
Sometimes I place it on my wrists.
Sometimes against my neck.
I’m tempted to just cut myself.
I’m curious of how it would feel.
Must be really painful.

There are times I feel really depressed.
And I find myself walking under dark skies.
Hands in my pockets.
Tears falling down my face.
Then I find myself standing over a bridge.
And I just stare at the water.
At the reflection of the moon.
The sight is intriguing.
I’m tempted to just jump.
I’m curious of how it would feel.
Must be really painful.
.
But better that than the pain I’m feeling inside.
Better that than the wars in my head and my heart.
I’d rather be bruised than broken.
I’d rather my eyes be closed than open.