Behind.
Behind my closet door
a rope is strung tight enough
and i can see myself
hanging from it like a rag doll
inside my medicine cabinet
lays a small open bottle
and i can see myself
slowly closing my eyes to the world
within my drawer
sits a sharp razor
and i can see myself
spilling forth warm blood, in exchange for a cold calm
i admit to all
that i am weak
because i can see myself
no longer caring to struggle with the fight
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