Broken

My text scrambled
As my shaking hands drop the phone.
No way out.
Even my cry for help
Is flawed,
Broken in two by
Hands trembling so badly
That all the words look like
They belong in The Jabberwocky.
Lungs on fire
I remember.
Breathe.
But why?
I finger the side of
My purple scissors,
Hesitant,
As the clock begins to chime,
Echoing
Down to my toes.
The blackout curtains
Block all light,
Leaving my bedroom
And me
In the dark.
Cold now,
I search for warmth
Taking refuge in a soft blue blanket.
Closing my eyes, I wait,
Listening to the chimes
Finish.
Slowly, I lay the scissors down.
Numb, I whisper
"Not tonight".
Tomorrow's another day.