To look at suicide, the bleakest of places.

To sense that desperation, when every door is shut.

How could I not want to rescue and save

As I myself, somewhere in the recesses wanted to be.

And although you couldn't save me, you did - 

 It was the chink in the door,

The tiny sliver of light that tentatively glimmered

In the crushing darkness and I could just see it,

When I looked hard enough, and that,

That slither of light and hope tipped the balance 

And I fought to hold onto the tiny possibility that maybe,

Just maybe it would be okay, I would breathe another day.

And in that selfish, all consuming space,

Looking at all the shut doors

In the blackness, the distant glow of that tiny light

Saved me.' Anon

#wordsina30yearwasteland #poetry

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