Whole

i hold this blade to my chest and hope over hope i won’t have to stop this pain with pain i will not feel the urge tonight i won’t sink into this hole i haven’t built an escape route from. ladders require two and i cannot have another; this one is far too much so the tears flow down to mix with blood long gone long spilled and spilled long gashes cuts long herstory analysis at my turns theories at my doorstep i look inside and find it hard to see the me that clutches this silver to her breast who breathes a sigh when all else fails and pain is felt. it’s hard to see this me who tears this she to nothing more than shreds of a forgotten yes a lost promise i sew however and when i’m put together i shine like new sure some pieces ordered wrong and sure i cut some down to size but as far as cutting goes it suits my purpose so i continue i see something more yet always less of who this me really is has yet to be and when my vision comes at last i clutch a blade to my chest this silver to my breast a sliver of sanity that easily throws me into the abyss i wonder those fatal questions and know that mortality is most fully realized when it proves you wrong. proves that when all else fails and your sigh is released there’s still no escape from the hole you’ve dug yourself inside.