A glass, dropped

It seemed so solid before,
This glass which now lies
In a million pieces
On the floor.

The miniscule crystals shine
With the wisdom of knowing
What it's like to finally succumb
To being broken, And

The blade-like edges glisten
In the golden light of the sun,
Reminding me how I'm teetering on
A knife edge

Between living and dieing.
The pieces of glass are like
The Devils eyes staring up at me
From hell.

I step on one, and feel a deep thrill,
It piercing into the skin of my foot,
Red blood seeping thickly
From the wound,

In a show of solidarity with my
Liquidized brain.
The scattered glass mocks me tantilisingly,
Showing me I can let go,

If only I had the courage to drop.
Let myself drop,
As the glass did,
Falling spectacularly from the work-surface

Where it seemed to be so solidly in place.

But nothing is solid, not now,
And I can feel everyone around me,
Patiently waiting with baited breath
For the day when, finally, I succumb to the pull
Of my depression.