Breath of realization.

In deep like ten feet, trying to stay afloat on a moat that separates you and the feeling of being free. 


Cause the monster in your mind, self doubt, trying to drag you down, trying to stop you, drown you. 


Then you deal with more of a quick slit of the wrist. But what did that work out for you. Just adding to the list of problems you have, conflicting your brain, criticizing your own name. 


Said its just for quick relief, but will you be able to breath, after the blood clears, you'll see it wasn't worth the screams.


To each their own, but I can't sleep knowing you have a knife to your wrist,  holding yourself hostage, I don't want you going through this. Under the influence of your emotions, depression messing with your devotion to do anything, cause when shit gets tough, it doesn't let you become tougher. 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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