The blades edge
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As I stand here on the edge I try to remember the things that brought me to this place. Was it the things I did, or the words I said. Or was it the darkness and chains that keep me bound here in the shadows. I try to scream for help, but the words stay caught in my throat. I look down at my hand and see something reflective of the gray mist that surrounds me. I hold the knife up to my face to see its sharpened edge. All at once the shadows seem to move and call out to me. Feeling myself being pulled farther into the deepening mist. Thinking to myself “This is it, no more chance for salvation... The loss of all hope.” I slide the knife down to my neck about to end it all, and as I take my last breath there is a sweet scent that fills my senses... My body jerks and the knife shifts down and cuts my arm... Feeling the heat rising, the blood running down fingers. What could this be, this scent that fills the very air around me. Something flutters by my ear, and I hear a soft, sweet voice say to me, “Just take my hand.” And as I did so I began to see light, to feel hope once more. My salvation. My final scar.
By Flying Color
© 2012 Flying Color
(All rights reserved)
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