a poem i wrote when i was dealing with my suicidal thoughts
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You can try to pretendBut you always fail in the endWhy bother What’s the use? Why suffer this self abuse You know how it ends
How am I still alive? Thought of death more than a million times You ask if I’m alright I reply with “yes, I’m fine.” But it's always a lie
Dark Hearts, Clouded Dreams, Undying Memories The wrath of blood slowly flowing down, my cold dead skin. This accident is gone, no tears are shed The world still turns
I am not afraid of anybody At times I can be extremely quiet Maybe a little too often Getting away from my personal thoughts is hard for me
I'm not asking for help, But was anything even true? If you can't be trusted, I don't know what I'd do. I've tried to kill myself,
She lost her sense of light. She might not make it home tonight. She lost her sense of hope. Around her neck she tightens the rope. She lost her confidence in life.
The time that i didn't come home for a day was because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that meaby if i disapeared my family was going to be happy. That my mom was going to be happy
Dear Mr. Moon
it said jump. curiousity. my head starts to spin. desire. climbing to the top. adrenaline. my feet leave the edge. fear. falling through the air.
Look me in my eyes Do you see the pain? The pain I hide Look at my smile Do you see the pain? The pain that I hide Im guessing you don't Because I am the clown of the circus
I've began to romanticize death Come to the terms of taking my last breath And the more I think of a world without me I think of how much more beautiful it would be
“Practice makes perfect…” she told herself as she tangled her legs between his. That’s what she was taught, the motto running through her head. She didn’t want to be this person; the one that falls into bed to push the pain away.