Under my bed By Denisse Cotto

Under my bed
I hid the word "suicide" like dirt below rocks
No one knew
No one noticed
It was just me and little mr knife
visiting me like a prophet with its words.
I was the perfect listener to his hypnotizing blade.
I was still, with its touch.

It was a secret monster
with knowledge of my weak spots.
I was young...and
stupid. Yet old, with too much knowledge.

I stepped away from my loved ones, and
became blind to open doors.
I was stuck there.
In this little bubble, which I pop,
but It popped me in every vein Mr Knife wanted.

I was gone for so long, I was hurt.
I felt like God replaced me into an unknown body.

Until one day,
I told Mr knife I loved myself too much for this to continue.
I put him away, but now, my skin ached for it.

So I spent my days screaming for its touch,
But I loved myself, so I pormised never to fail again.
So I hid it under my bed,
Knowing it was there,
breathing below me as I slept
I kept it near just in case I needed him soon.

But I never did.

By Denisse Cotto A.K.A nISSY