The first cut is deep.

The wound unbearable, unhealable.

I’m beyond saving point.

I try to pull myself from this trans of just going thru the motions.

But there is something holding me down,

It’s Lucifer Himself.

The first cut is always the deepest.

As I slowly slip away,

I see a light,

Not a white light,

But a red light.

When I wake I see white everywhere I look.

I hear the consistent beeps of….machines??

I’m in a hospital?

The first cut is always the deepest.

Why did I do it?

I broke.

Under all the stress and pressure, the jumble of my thoughts in my head,

Unsure of what to do.

Why is the cut so deep?

Cause. It’s not my arm, It’s my heart.

It’s not a hospital, It’s my mind and my alarm clock.

I am pulled from the darkness by a hand.

I recognize this hand.

This is my reason for living everyday.

For writing.

He is everything.

More than he will ever know.

And I love him dearly.

Even so...We can’t be right now.

That is why the cut is so freaking deep.

But maybe one day we will.

Then and only then,

might my cut heal and turn into a scar,

that will soon after be forgotten.

Put away in a safe and locked for good.

Until then, this cut will always be the deepest and the worst.

Never to love another the way I loved him.

He was my first,

And that is why the cut is so deep,

Unhealable, unsavable, and unbearable.

I will try and make it go away,

But it reminds me of what we had and what we might have again.

The first cut is always the deepest.