The Cutter's Friend

They looked, at his face in disgust and walked away.
He died, inside with each icy remark they made.
They stole, what little joy he had unknowingly.
He left, with their sharp words replaying in his head.
They had, no idea how deep the gashes were that their words had made.

I watched, as the crimson water flowed from his wrist.
He cried, out for help as I stood arms reaching out.
I answered, but his screams were too loud to hear.
He raised, the blade again as I watched in pain.
I felt, clear water fall from my cheek meeting his crimson on the floor.

He searched, for help but couldn't even see my face.
I raised, my arms shouting but he still couldn't see.
He began, writing a note as my eyes widened.
I knew, that he was going to do something bad.
He opened, a drawer and grabbed it. Hand shaking, he put it to his head. His finger tightened. And tightened. And tightened. And released.

They saw.

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