Do You Know?

Do you

know what it's like to always
be sad to always be gloomy
and scared?

Do you know
what it's like when you run
all over the house searching
for razors, because your mom
stole yours?

She thought you
were suicidal and she maybe
was right can you touch
my desperation?
rip the pack
of blades she hid in her sock
drawer.

Do you know what it's like
to not care about tomorrow
because you're not planning
to be here anyway?

You don't know the shatteringly beautiful
droplets of your own blood
as they slide from skin. You
can't. None of the living know.