Alone in his room, weeps a boy
Lonely and depressed, holding onto his life by a thread that is fraying.
He prays to a God, not like the one everyone knows of, but his, himself.
He prays that he can end this pain he suffers from. He prays that love will one day come for him, and show him there is something to live for.
Too many times before has he attempted to finish it. The blade was always his best friend, his only friend.
He sits in silence and waits for a thought, an idea. Nothing. He has no wish to live a life of this rupture, of this pain. He hates everything, everyone. And everyone hates him. He has no one. No family.
Night time arrives, the Sun sleeps, as the darkness awakens. He takes one look in the mirror, realizing the boy he used to know is dead. The boy he wants to be is too far away, out of reach. Suicide crawls closer, gaining power over him, controlling his thoughts. Focused and prepared, he ties the slipknot, and places his head in the noose.
Knotting the rope around the frames in the closet, he steps up on the box of old clothes he had packed for his move to the big city, and jumps. . .
Feet scratching the floor, he chokes, painfully. Then as he had wanted, the lights went out. |
