The Note

Under the permeating laughter
There is a sadness so still it
Terrifies the world, self-worth
Wrapped up in layers-identity
Sinking to the bottom of lesser
Seas, the meanings of razor
Blades and empty rooms spill
A truth many would rather have
Rather forgotten, the lost child
In an open woods with open
Wounds, too soon to tell if
They will yet survive silver knives
And bullets from guns, cowering
In corners, running until their
Hearts play the final beat, hacking
At piano keys and guitar strings,
Weighted belts hang from empty
Coat hangers, the damage too
Wholesome, the danger too strong,
A crumpled note-
-I’m sorry mom.

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