"For us,"
he said,
As if he could read,
the question in my head.
"We bleed to know,
our existence is real,
Because, we can't trust our emotions,
we can't trust what we feel."
And that was his reasoning,
for cutting his wrists,
just to feel real,
to know he exists.
I understood him,
because it wasn't a lie,
you could tell he spoke the truth,
by the look in his eyes.
So I kept quiet,
and now I regret,
never speaking a word,
but never being able to forget,
because he slipped away,
maybe he cut to deep,
because when I saw him yesterday,
he wasn't just asleep.
