The shimmer in her eyes slowly dimmer. Pain in her voice as she speaks, yet she stands shaking with pain.

Justice slowly fading beneath her very eyes. Pain in her throat slices as she utters words like razors. Blood spills from her mouth yet she still speaks, holes in her throat pour out.

She was only 8 when she took her own life. The moment she took the razor to her wrist her parents walked away. She took the razor to her throat they ran.

Moment’s too late she bleeds out on the operation table. Tears wash her wounds closed. Doctors watch the agony inflicted upon her body, shocking pain into his heart.

He falls to his knees as he calls out the time of death. She is no older than his daughter. He walks out with blood-stained gloves and a mask. He sits with his head between his hands.

12-hour shift more he stands and wipes the tears from his face. He walks back in and calls for another. 13-year-old boy, a barcode on his hand, gun wound to his head.

DOA he calls a time. Tears flow as the river from the mountains. He clocks out. He phones his children to hear their voice once more, pain in his voice makes his children cry.

But he walks and falls, pain so great in his heart that he maketh not to his goal. The last thing his children heard was I love you…