with shaking hands

A Poem by Chevvy

he raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed as much as he could take.

and he stared at himself at the mirror,
seeing a broken boy with scars that never heal,
a heart that bled like a river of tears,
an ugly face colored purple and black
bruises that do not ever fade,
pain reflecting back at him
from the depths of his cerulean orbs
that was dead to the world,
void of life

and he opened the cabinet drawer
the numerous bottled pills taunting
singing, whispering, mocking
and his hands shook as he took one, two, five orange bottles
all half used,
he opened them and spilled the contents
on the dirty bathroom sink
four, six, thirteen
was it enough to end him?

there were now forty-two on his palm,
the most it could carry

but before he took them
he begged himself
to drop the pills
and hold on a little longer,
that he shouldn’t die like this
because he was strong
and loved
and beautiful
and they will miss him terribly

it comforts him for a moment
and a broken smile touched his lips
and more tears rolled down his cheeks
before a sob escaped him
and he broke down
and he knew he couldn’t lie to himself anymore

because

no one ever loved him
no one ever needed him,
he wasn’t what anyone wanted
or what anyone seeked
and it ached like a thousand daggers stabbing his chest
like scorching metal burning his flesh,

and it hurts him the most

because

he wasn’t enough,
he won’t ever be enough

and it hurts

bad

that he couldn’t take another breath

and so with shaking hands,
full of colorful pretty pills,
of different shapes
and sizes
he raised it to his mouth
and swallowed as much as he could take

he shut his eyes,
his throat burned
as he didn’t use water
but when he opened them
and stared at his ruined form
he felt no satisfaction
nor pleasure

but perhaps

this was

meant to be

that even from his last breath
when he collapsed on the cold bathroom tiles

he wasn’t happy

but he wasn’t sad

and connor

knew

this was

his end