Watching

A suicide story.

I am but a bystander, watching the desolate footprints following you,
Smudged by the worn backpack you drag so carelessly behind,
Pulling on the torn handle you dissected during your moment of extreme anxiety,
Watching as you aimlessly wander the hallways with your heart so painfully stapled to your sleeve, Watching your breath dissipate as you grow nearer to the world outside your mind,
Watching as they add stitches to your mouth with their chastisements filling your head,
Seeing the rocks that lie arduously on your chest, creating a wall around their social hierarchy,
Watching as the bus fills, yet there's an empty seat just for you,
Watching as you rub the scars on your arm,
Seeing the story you've written to the one person you know will read it,
Watching these memories looking for the courage to speak to you,
Wishing deeply to show you light in your eclipsed life,
Watching the news to see that I was too late,
Realizing someone is watching me in the same way,
Putting down the knife, to live another day.