From the third person looking in, she wallows in the day.
He wanders the earth jumping back and forward,
Not knowing he’s jumping over her.
From the third person looking in, another catches his eye.
It won't last long, but it’s enough,
To push her over the edge.
Looking in, horizontal marks on her limbs.
He sees the pain and knows it’s there,
But its “not his burden to carry”.
From the third person looking in, a friend is lost, one is shunned, and another guilty of all.
Flowers around them wilting; lost like her.
Too bad the third person is me.