Hesitant

I stare at the knife in my hand,

bringing it close to my face

My eyes flicker left

It's 9:00.

Time to end the trickle of sand.

 

Laughter behind me-I hesitate

Do I die tonight?

How would I do it?

Will they scream?

Will I, whilst spiraling to Hell's gate?

 

Sighing, I put the knife away

Time moves on,

people move on,

my exsistance is nothing...

all is inevidable, as my hair turns grey.

 

Maybe my hesitation was a mistake

Perhaps my living was for the best

Who knows?

Those who search find nothing

Just fragments of those who break.

 

Wake up, eat, school, sleep.

The endless cycle..

it ends, my friend.

'the moving finger writes'

no matter how much you weep.