Sometimes suicide is slow. A friend tries, fails; tries, fails. But the body holds our secrets and never forgets.
One day, years later, the body holds a bright, growing ball and says, “See? Look what I have done for you.”
Sometimes suicide is slow. A friend tries, fails; tries, fails. But the body holds our secrets and never forgets.
One day, years later, the body holds a bright, growing ball and says, “See? Look what I have done for you.”
