Knife

That uneasy feeling you notice that is piling up, barely able to be covered up by the carpets and the wooden planks. A deep, dark cut on the smooth surface of the cement floor, the crevice of many unspoken worries and terrors. Don’t you sometimes wish you could just tear apart all the veils that cover the ugly scars? To peel off the skin layer by layer, until you reach the blackened, poisoned veins that are too far gone. Perhaps it would be easier to simply slash it open, and let the bad blood bleed out slowly, until finally there isn’t much left to be bled.

Then there is the cold, a icy dagger that slides so silently between your ribs where its poison starts to spread. The pain is covered up by the poison which spreads, quietly, quickly. It isn’t until the knife has been wrenched out till you feel the blood gush, the heat leave your body, the life leave your soul. The massive wave of disillusionment tears up your soul, the feeling of utter disappointment and then, loneliness.
Don’t you see now? The knife has always been there, ready to be unplugged, ready to open your eyes to the cruelty of this world! Open your eyes! Don’t you see the blade that is buried in your chest? Do you not understand that the jutting black hilt is the plug to a blackhole in your heart?

The plug has been pulled, yanked mercilessly off, and there is nothing left for me to mourn but my own stupidity and how it has caused my own demise.

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