the blade hovers in the air,
above her shaking wrist

a salty substance,
trickles down her cheeks

she smiles a week smile,
holding back her tears

a knock is heard,
on the bathroom door

"hey i got a paper cut"
"it hurts so much"

a tone in annoyance,
yells from the other side

she stands up with her tool,
shoving it in her hiding place

hoping to never take it out again,
hoping to never have to take it out

she smiles another smile,
unlocking the door

she smiles and puts her arms around the person,
the person who unknowing prevented her demise

by being irritated about,
a paper cut

suicide/depression/consequences