It is not your fault.
Gazing toward my razor blade.
So glassy and tranquil was the thought of dying.
But in my damned place,
Death's bony embrace clutched
Listless children gnawed by hunger,
Prisoners on death row guilty because of injustice
Innocent teenagers perishing at the hands of reckless drivers.
I thought of dying to throw myself away.
My mind was of so much waste and no use to me.
I could fall to my knees with humility;
I could holler with my lungs at injustice;
I could join hands in protest to brutality;
I realized that I had long been dead.
I chose to reawake
And be alive for them.