My Superman. Poem by Bri Marie Ormsbee

And I fall.
Fast and hard.
Into the deep dark abyss.
The world would not cry.
I wasn’t much to miss.
I came to be in this place.
Just another boring, mundane, nameless face.

My pale thin wrists.
The cuts, and scars, forever there a reminder of this wicked twist.
Aren’t hard to miss.
It’s dark down here.
The pain and sorrow cuts out the light.
Down here, it’s unavoidable, you’re engulfed in your biggest fear.
To try and get out, is just too much of a difficult fight.

So once again, I pick up the knife.
One cut, two cut, even more.
The blood a reflection of my life.

Trying once again to end it all.
I feel it coming, my body it gets a shiver.
There’s nowhere left to go, death is the last and final place to fall.

But then:
A hint of light, just barely a sliver.
Curiosity gets the best of me.
Could it be?
Someone heard my silent plea.
Has My SuperMan come to finally rescue me?

I gasp as the light gets bigger.
My tool of choice, the sleek and shiny knife lays forgotten on the ground.
My hopes up, someone’s here to rescue me.
Go figure.

My blood-stained fingers claw at the darkness around me.
I’m climbing, trying to make my way to the top.
The darkness it swallows me, urging me to give up.
But I see the light, my one way out, I vow to myself I won’t stop.

Slowly, I’m climbing, the darkness it strangles me, trying so hard to break me.
The light just a flicker above, focusing it’s all I see.

The darkness makes me weak, it tells me this isn’t real.
That the light is merely an illusion.
“No! ” I whisper-scream. That couldn’t be true.
Because you see, My SuperMan has X-Ray vision.
He can see me down here, he sees past the darkness, straight through.

I climb faster and harder.
The light seeming to always be just out of reach.
The darkness begins to get thicker.

Visions of flying away fill my mind.
Because, My SuperMan he has a cape.
I can almost feel it on my skin, fresh ice-cold wind.
And before I know it I’m at the top.
Breaths away from my final escape.

I open my eyes to see.
Not a Man of Steal,
But an outstretched hand guided by an arm that has scars that match me.

Nervous and scared I grab that hand.
The heat strangely matching my cold.
And on his wrist, he matches his Forever to my I Promise with a taped together hariband.
He pulls me up to a new place, a story left untold.

I look at him, my hand still in his grasp.
I think to myself: He should disappoint me.
He doesn’t appear to have X-Ray vision, and he wears no cape.
He bares no symbol of Super Power upon his chest.
Just skinny jeans and a plain black tee.

But as simple as he may be.
He has a Super Power that is other worldly.
The one and only reason he could even attempt to rescue me.
Is because he was just as lost, and he told the Darkness that he loves me.

His name is Coty.
Spelled with a “T”.