The Broken and Unheard

A dark room. Silent and alone They, the broken, the unheard… It is fitting they are alone in this very last moment As they have been alone in all other ones. What other sign did you want? A shaky breath, cold wind, Empty stomach, blood dripping. Drip, drip, tracing patterns On their arms. Carving their stories no one would hear. A gun, a knife, rope, pills, drowning, Unsteady hands hold life and death. Decide, decide, like a drum beating, demanding. They, the broken, the unheard… They are gone. They, who we pass unwittingly day after day. They, who smiles do not come easily from. They, who run and run away but still have hope That you will come and save them. And when that hope is crushed…. Remember the fallen: They who have looked in the mirror and Decided they couldn’t stand it anymore. They who Took their life because no one saved them… Because they thought no one loved them.