A Story Barely Told

A cold dark night in April,
a few days after the 17th.
I sit alone holding a tissue,
straight-edge blade wrapped underneath.

Tears and black eyeliner,
running down my face.
Searching deep inside myself,
trying to find a peaceful place.

But all my mind could focus on,
was my pain from days before.
And how I wanted to end it all,
and not have to face it anymore.

Pulling out the blade,
thoughts flashed through my head.
A little voice says I'm not good enough,
and I'm better off dead.

A first, slow horizontal cut,
and red blood runs across my arm.
Then another different thought,
saved me from further harm.

Saying that I had to live,
a future waits for me.
I thought I'd never understand it,
until now I can see.