(content warning) Poem - Washrooms

This poem discusses the topic of self-injury. Please read with delicacy.

Because I could not ask so kindly,

it kindly asked for me.

Thoughts, Thoughts, everywhere,

Yet not a drop to ask.

It does ask,

it does pry,

And it certainly does try.

Don't believe that these walls are familiar?

The room is eerie. Relief bangs

On a silver blade, guiding its orchestra.

Washrooms, however hard they try,

Will always be mysterious

In its occult silence.

Pay attention to the sounds,

It stresses as it opens, 

Torn apart through the mixture of colors.

No matter how hard it tries,

It will always be freeing

Soaked in liberation.

Because I could not fathom it,

it did kindly for me.

Glass, Cracked, everywhere,

Yet not a drop to access.

In the depths, it breaks,

Should it also open?