Everyday around a quarter
past three..
You burst into the bathroom,
searching for me.
I get hidden by your mother
while you are away,
hidden unused for most of the day,
i feel your anger as your hand grips me tight.
I'm the only thing,
that helps you sleep at night.
I live you put scars upon your wrist,
I leave my mark,
I'm proud of this.
I watch as the beautiful red pattern drips,
and runs off the ends of your finger tips.
What possesses humans to act like this?
To scream and cry and cut their
wrists?
But for now my job is clear,
its the reason i was brought here.
To relieve the pain,
to sit by the window and watch the rain.
Up until around a quarter past three,
when you burst into the
bathroom searching for me.