to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
you beautiful bright light; you founder of cities that celebrate; you body full of black and ivory piano keys—
cover yourself in positivity, stop cutting yourself and start cutting strings with those who make you, with those who look at you like you're something to be ashamed of.
somewhere, in a hospital, a woman dies while giving birth. you tell yourself that she is stronger than you, more deserving of a life, that you would want to change places.
don't.
death of others doesn't justify yours.
to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
i’m sorry.