I wonder, if I'd killed myself before I met you, if we'd both be happier now
I'd take the first chance at a do over
I constantly wonder why I chose to do things like this
I constantly want to run as far as I can
As far as the next train station
So that I can stare at the mocking signs
That tell me to keep off the tracks

I wonder, twice a day, three days a week, how you'd react if I simply stepped past the yellow
How much of my blood would replace the yellow safety line
Would everything end in an instant
Would I feel pain
Would I have time to regret
To be as intensely sad as I am now
Would I have the wherewithal
To apologize in my head
But not with my lips

I consider everyone who passes me by
Perhaps they'd love me like this
Perhaps they'd treat me like that
Perhaps maybe possibly somehow
But I have no wishes at home
At home inbox them away and stare at nothing
And feel my heart beat itself to an early death
And wonder
What could possibly
Be taking it so long.

I don't want to be here.
I'm terrified to go.
But that's mattered less, lately.