My White Valley

I sat criss-cross applesauce on my window sill like an innocent child

The cool air blew against allowing the sun to tenderly caress my cheeks one last time

With my quivering clammy hands, I held the blade that reflected the sun as it began to set, gently slitting across my arm.

My dried eyes formed cracks allowing salty tears to seep through and painfully stream down my cheeks

They burst into waterfalls drowning my mind and body.

I had slit the dam, letting the red river pour and stain my white valley.