“Don’t cross the yellow line”
To you it’s a joke, to me it’s a sign
That you too have monsters in your head
That you too pick your skin until you bled.
“Don’t cross the yellow line”
Something I saw as an impending deadline.
All those stories about people jumping in,
Wishing that I was the one who had blood on their skin.
The number of times that I’ve been so close
A plan to cross that yellow line after an overdose.
A yellow line that you think looks so cheery,
But to me grew eerie.
“Don’t do it”
But what if people were wishing that I commit?
The people who ignore, who hurt, who stare
Seemingly my friends but do you think they would really care?
“Don’t do it”
Then perhaps I should slit
My wrists, my arms, my thighs
Make up for all those lies.
I would think about what would happen after
And I would hear their wicked laughter
“Well we wanted her gone”
Silent whispers from the ones I thought I could depend on.
“Why do you get so afraid?”
Because I think of the band aid
That I used to hide under the tray
“Just in case” I used to say.
“Why do you get so afraid?”
Because I remember the blade
That I held against my wrist
After making that one last, stupid list.
So next time please don’t give me a scare,
Because you weren’t there when I couldn’t bare
Looking at those wooden boards
Replaying bad memories like records.
So please, don’t cross the yellow line.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 6:06 PM UTC
“Don’t cross the yellow line”
To you it’s a joke, to me it’s a sign
That you too have monsters in your head
That you too pick your skin until you bled.
“Don’t cross the yellow line”
Something I saw as an impending deadline.
All those stories about people jumping in,
Wishing that I was the one who had blood on their skin.
The number of times that I’ve been so close
A plan to cross that yellow line after an overdose.
A yellow line that you think looks so cheery,
But to me grew eerie.
“Don’t do it”
But what if people were wishing that I commit?
The people who ignore, who hurt, who stare
Seemingly my friends but do you think they would really care?
“Don’t do it”
Then perhaps I should slit
My wrists, my arms, my thighs
Make up for all those lies.
I would think about what would happen after
And I would hear their wicked laughter
“Well we wanted her gone”
Silent whispers from the ones I thought I could depend on.
“Why do you get so afraid?”
Because I think of the band aid
That I used to hide under the tray
“Just in case” I used to say.
“Why do you get so afraid?”
Because I remember the blade
That I held against my wrist
After making that one last, stupid list.
So next time please don’t give me a scare,
Because you weren’t there when I couldn’t bare
Looking at those wooden boards
Replaying bad memories like records.
So please, don’t cross the yellow line.
