Our lines and cracks.

I look out the window in a strong growing gaze,

The rain rushing down in a painfull, haze.

No need to fear what comes after this,

it will all be left in a puddle of reminisce.

Think to myself what to look forward to,

Or how to see or what to do.

 The clouds start to form fiercly gray,

Stubbornly striving to never go away.

Staring stronger at the glass the window defines

Justifying the cracks and the small lines.

Rain drops shattering loud and clear,

Wanting to get in with profound fear.

A dismay reflection appears in the window,

A strong dissapointment it seems to shadow.

A thought of anger or maybe courage I see,

Quickly overtaken with rage; like disgusting debris.

Inhaling a breath as if to erase,

the constant disapointment and disgrace.

Justifiying myself like the window cracks,

No point to worry now as i just try to relax.

The time will come and I will be set free,

Scars on my arms for everone to see.

The line on the window stops in the center,

As a sign of progression like a continous mentor.

I look back out the window then at my wrists,

Suddenly I fill with anger and clench my fist.

Relizing the reasoning of my self inflictaion.

Its just like the window with justification.

It makes sense to me now the cracks and line,

If its not fixed the glass will shatter in time.

my heart and my wrists; may have a perment scar

but here in this place freedom wont be far.

A shelter full of nurses and doctors for my cure,

When really its my heart that has gained the fear.

But everyone has lines and a occassional crack to leap,

It's simply a matter of saving them before the're too deep.