Life claims to be fun but when it's all said and done it's one of the worse things I could go through.
Walking through like a blind and soulless bird while many fly past.
It feels empty as I walk by these empty and lonely fields.
The dark abbess calls to you while you look at the empty faces telling you, you can't go.
These masked men you walk next to wanting to end.
It's weird how I feel like I need to recommend pills to make you a broken doll.
Only for you to put on a show and pretend like these pills work just so you can get your work done,
but you fall asleep on the piles of papers wishing you'd chosen a different job.
Isn't it nice smiling in the halls as the tears stream endlessly on your covered face for no one to comprehend.
People tell you that you shouldn't take up others space and air,
but you shouldn't slip on that knife,
or kick that that chair,
because then it's just not fair,
how you leave them to breath in peace only to be sad till they forget.
Only using your voice as a story to pass down and connect to others who couldn't save you.
You jump down for what seems like endless days before you regret the decision you made,
but then it's too late.
For it's your fate.
Can someone stop this fate of mine before I boil over the top.
These friends of mine want to kill around me when I just want to end me
but I have to keep going for you and pretend it's not always on my mind.
I have to pretend my grades are fine and my voice isn't shaking
as I fight the thrills in my head of the dead.
So this little life of mine is not of mine but only for yours to keep hold of.
Please don't let go
I'm already bleeding from these cuts so deeply in-bedded in me.
They say not to be weak
but how can you not when you can barely see and grasp what you can't see
as you walk across the burning fire consuming you.
Been clean for so many years.
Tried to kill in lesser time.
The dark is my friend who wants to be the only thing I can see as I sink in the repeating cycle choking me as each day goes on.
I wish this was a cry for help but see I won't respond because I'm the one taking care of others.
My doom may come one day,
but if it does,
it will be slow.
My depression hides in my teeth and in my eyes.
My shaking hands can barely hang on to the rope due to the sand beneath me.
See this is life for me.
