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  Apr 2016 Bria Hunt
jalc
It's in the act of
Unlocking the front door
Leaving the chill of the outside
For the warmth of home

It's in the dog that comes
Snuffling happily at your feet
The cat that pads up quietly
Reluctantly curling around your ankles

It's in the bowl that sits
Still warm in the microwave
And the accompanying note
Wrapped around the spoon

It's in the moment
Of stepping into the shower
And letting the hot spray
Wash the day's grime and cares off

It's coming home to you
Snoring under the covers
Smelling like soap and sleep
As you wake up a little
To tug me closer and kiss me goodnight
Bria Hunt Apr 2016
The blade brands my skin
As the tears burn my cheeks
And my head pounds more than I can breathe.

This isn't what you think it is.
It isn't a wish for my life to end,
this is a cry for help.

Maybe,

with this final scream left
I will get someone's attention.

Someone will see,
maybe even notice me,
maybe, just maybe,
someone will stay and comfort me!

The pain of life,
the stain of sin,
is the blood that drips
down these pail white bricks.

No one seems to have the strength
to remove even one brick.
To see if I need help
or to see if I'm hurting myself.

I'll scream one more time
To see if someone hears my cry
"I'm hurting myself, I'm hurting myself!"
But no one seemed to lift an eye.

— The End —