Paper Rose

One glass down: pills out ready to leave.
Not just for now, but for eternity.
Reckless thinking: exhausting.
Down another glass and bed comes calling.
While my morning is numb and makeup wont stay: tears wash it away.
I drive to work, drowning.

Thoughts as clear as my watering eyes.
Hypothetically my own demise.
Hospital bed: under metaphoric arrest.
Some people just don't understand the stress.
The burden I hold, the tears I shed, and the thoughts I dread.

Questions fill my day.
While nurses and doctors show me the way.
A wristband with a barcode become my identity.
I sleep away the anxiety.
Every fifteen minutes I'm checked on: no privacy.

Call mom and dad and apologize wholeheartedly.
For I regret letting them see this part of me.
Sitting in a corner with a heart completely numb.
As as sit and watch other patients whom are use to this places hum.

The day lingers until I'm approached by one of my own.
He tells me my worth; that I am not alone.
He then begins strategically assembling pieces of toiletry.
Explaining what most would throw away is a treasure of his own.
In a moment I needed it most.
He gave me hope in the form of a paper rose.

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