PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You 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