I hold my breath as I fish out my favorite razor from under my pillow.
I hold my breath as I pull up my right pant leg.
I hold my breath as I have flash backs of my mother telling me I am nothing more than a vital mistake.
I hold my breath.
I hold my breath as I my arm moves down to my ankle, passing the cuts and bruises that have left scars.
I hold my breath as I my arm lowers and I make the first cut.
I hold my breath as I go Down the Road and not Across the Street. Although it takes all my might not to.
I hold my breath as I watch the first drops of blood trickle out of me.
I hold my breath.
I let out a sigh, for I am now calm. Or as calm as I can be for the next few moment.
I do not hold my breath as I sit in silence watching my blood ooze out of my skin.
I hold my breath yet again, while I plaster on my fake smile for the world to see.
I hold my breath. Hoping that one day, I can be saved.