1-866-277-3553 / the Job
Poetic_SeppukuYou hear the phone ring and you answer right away, because it’s your job
You ask me what’s wrong, because it’s your job
I tell you that I’m slipping, I’m falling, I can’t get up
You don’t understand and ask me to tell you what’s going on, because you need information
I tell you my heart doesn’t bleed, I’ve hit rock bottom, I want to die
You tell me suicide isn’t an option, because that’s what you’re supposed to say
You talk me through my phase, because it’s your job
You tell me to relax and look at everything that’s good in life, because it’s your job
I thank you for saving my life
But what about all the others
The ones you couldn’t save
You take the bus home, after your job
You cry in the bathroom, because of your job
You worry about the two kids that you couldn’t save today, it’s the reality of your job
You cut your wrist again, cursing yourself for being such a hypocrite, you worry about your job
You can’t show up to work with scars again, the job won’t allow it
The blood flows down the drain of your shower, you hate your job
The next day
No one sees you at your job
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