CN: Suicide, Dark Thoughts, Implied Blood
I am a knife
By Anthony Jutz
I am a knife,
Or perhaps a dancer.
I do a twirl on the edge,
Perhaps of myself or maybe a great abyss.
The world is a sheath,
Or perhaps a ripe fruit,
Ready for the knife.
Sliced in twain it holds my form, regardless.
Reality is but a moment,
Shifting between breaths.
It runs along the edge of the knife,
Of me,
Standing on the tip or perhaps over a precipice.
This moment,
But a pinprick.
The feeling bubbles and drops off.
Falling to the ground, it disappears,
Followed by another,
And another.
It forms a pool of deep red
Containing a reflection of me,
Or perhaps the knife,
Dancing on the edge.
The edge burns with potential,
Another moment aching to be.
The feelings flow in and out,
Awaiting my decision
To take the plunge.