Life Isn't Worth a Dime With a Knife Sliced Wrist

I finally told someone, said those words I promised I'd never let escape my bruised lips. The raucous laughter drew blood from my ears. My strings were cut and I found myself standing on my own, teetering on the edge with my toes curled tightly around the betrayal. I'll never fall, never let myself be pushed but sometimes it becomes too hard. My feet aren't hands. They don't grasp as hard as my heart does. I have to keep holding on. Breath rips my lungs, tearing my vocal chords to shreds until I can't call for help. Is anybody listening?
Staring over the edge at the life I left behind. I thought I chose where i wanted to go but I never envisaged this would be the end. The map didn't tell me this was beyond the horizon.
Putting one foot in fornt of the other. The slow blink of an eye. Time oozes through my fingers, I try to grasp it but it runs away, laughing and taunting.
Without time there is nothing. Everything becomes empty and meaningless. Perfect in the same way a broken mirror is perfect. The distorted refelction belies the torment and hell simmering just below the surface. It only shows snapshots of the whole story, the prologue to a foreshortened life. It already shows too much. It highlights all the imperfections that are accepted as the norm.
I'll never forget those words of silk that you spun from your mouth; "You can't be depressed, I will not have a depressed daughter!" A clear lack of understanding was exhibited by both parties, neither knowing the correct footwork for this social dance. Treading on eachother's toes and not staying in time with the music. We make our own melodies, dance to our own inner songs that sing of destruction.
Cuts on a beating organ, your words dripping lemon juice into the wounds. You left the room and I smashed; becoming the monster I have tried so hard to hide. Scattering shards of glass from my eyes and pulling ribbons of pain from my arms.