The heavy razor

Picture a bathroom

It could be your bathroom

It could be an imaginary bathroom

It could be fancy, walls lined with white tiles and garnet sinks

It could be small, with a wooden toilet seat and green hand towels

Is there a window?

And does it have curtains?

Just picture a bathroom

Any bathroom

Got it?

Picture the door

What color is it?

Does it have a towel rack?

Are the hinges rusted from condensation?

Is it tall?

What color is the door knob?

Just picture a door,

Any door

Got it?

Now picture the floor

Is it white?

Is it wooden?

Is there a small rug?

Just picture a floor,

Any floor

Now picture a small trail of blood on that floor

A deep red

Puddles of origin

It could be a large puddle

It could be small

Just picture blood,

Any pile of blood

Got it?

Now picture a girl

Young, a teen

She could be blonde or burnet

She could be wearing a dress or a sweatshirt

She could be pale or tan

She could be you,

She could be your friend, your sister, your mother

Just picture a girl,

Any girl

Sitting on the floor

Tears in her eyes

Got it?

Now picture her hands

Her nails could be painted

Her hands could be frail

just picture her hands,

Any hands

Shaking in fear

holding a small metal razor,

And Blood on her wrists 

Got it?

Now imagine what happened to her

Think of what could have brought her there

Think of how she is feeling

Think of what is going through her mind

Think of what you can do to save her

Got it?

And lastly,

Think back to that door.

If you were standing on the other side,

The other end,

The greener grass,

Could you possibly know what was going on inside?

Could you see through its disguise?

Could you tell whether or not someone was near death in there?

How could you know what was going on inside, if you never reached to open the door?