Stairs

[flyingkitten]

One.

One is the first stair
I walk down all alone towards
the bottom, tomorrow.

Two.

Two is similar
unknown, unafraid, routine
my foot falls to three.

Three.

Things begin to change
but manage to stay the same.
Skepticism rules all.

Four.

Anxiety laps
at my toes, the tide rising.
Good thing I can swim.

Five.

Water over my
feet. Not a problem. I am
ready. Thirsty, though.

Six.

The bottle opens
with a satisfying hiss.
Drink up. Fuck seven.

Seven.

My thighs are all wet.
Disappointing. I hoped I
would have washed away.

Eight.

Numbly I step down
Ashamed I gave in so fast.
So nice to forget.

Nine.

Rest. Try to take care
of myself. These hands need work.
Hello, little blade.

Ten.

Skin is a window.
See the blade under it, to
fix my flaws and scars.

Eleven.

My fingers are sore
from my repairs. At least I
can feel? Rather not.

Twelve.

Only human. That
is not an excuse. New plan.
Start over. Daunting.

Thirteen.

Confident, I step
with hope driving fear away.
Is this happiness?

Fourteen.

The last step. I don't
know where it leads. It must be
better than this, right?