The worlds will never know about it.
The cries I cry go unheard no doubt about it.
The sting of the razor sharp edge piercing my skin.
I’ve become aware of my surroundings.
The dark room swallows me whole.
I stare into the nothingness of the wall.
This feeling is foreign to me.
Wanting to not exist, to be gone.
The thing that keeps me alive feels warm as it cascades down my forearm slowly as
water would in a tranquil stream.
Undoubtedly my wrist goes numb.
I feel nothing.
I am nothing.
I slowly fade away into the darkness becoming another case filed into this unjust world.
By: Dasia Jackson