No one asked why.

It was cold.
The house was usually empty.
She sat in her room sleeping.
Never caring. She shouldnt, why should she?

These rancid new images
of new lovers in my head.
I felt the pound of anger.
No fear, no more pride.

I left her alone.
Figured shed never care.
So I started off slow.
Hiding out in the other rooms.

The sad music pouring in.
Washing away any real sense.
From what was wrong, from right.
So for days I would sit pain on my wrists.

And no one asked why.

I just had to wear that sweater that day.
Lifting my arm a bit my pain was shown.
My new way of feeling better.
And as they stared.

I didnt care.
Id forgotten what it was like to be held.
Everyone dropped me so I shattered gently.
I was bitter now, laughing at them.

How it could be wrong,
when it felt so right.
The days lingered on.
And I never stopping.

Became more sadder in shame.
It just felt better you see.
Like that one tiny slice,
could make me feel like I was human again.

-comment, id like to know*