Its a Wednesday, an average day. His arms looked like a battfield. Scar after scar of self-inflicted wounds. She sits from a far and stares and she wonders. She knows she can save him. He fakes a smile, a laugh, and it all and he wonders if someone will notice his act. Shes silent and worried, fearful for the day she will never say his empty eyes again. He's numb and in pain and waits for the date to tie the knot. She has to do something, and she very much knows. She waits and waits and builds up as much courage as her body can hold. He has to do something and he knows it to. He waits and he waits and builds up the courage to finally get it over with. Its too late. Its done and over. Its just another Wednesday, she sits and she stares at a grave covering a boy, she could have saved.