One Question

Even with the sharpness of the blade, I can't seem to cut deep enough into my skin for the demons to escape from deep within. Through the breaking of my heart, they found their way into my mind and with my soul they tried to bind. Though they weren't self made, they feed only upon my pain, becoming harder to contain. For years I painted on a smile, hiding them behind the perfect mask but filling up the cracks was no easy task. It’s all become too much for me; they’ve grown far too strong and I’ve been dealing with them all wrong. So with the words upon this page, I will you the strength I lack to defeat the demons that you pack. I hear you yelling now but you're far too late, I've already accepted my fate. I just have one question left to ask: where were you before my body was lying lifeless on the floor?