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When you can't breathe in their lies,
When they all laugh at your demise,
When everybody kills your dreams,
When nothing is really as it seems,
When you're too weak to continue living,
When you can't bare this world, it's unforgiving,
When everyone leaves your side,
There's only one word...SUICIDE.....

If I died
would you cry?
Would you wonder if I was happy?
Would I be on your mind?
Would you ever speak my name again?
Would you come to my funeral?
Would you miss me?
Would you think of me?
Would you remember all our inside jokes,
the memories we created,
even is they weren't that serious?

Would your heart drop to your stomach
when you found out
that it was suicide?

The truth is
You could slit my throat
And with my one last gaping breath
I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt

I was at the edge of the cliff,
ready to jump.
I looked to you,
hoping you'd try to stop me.
you looked at me
and signed
because you were tired
of trying to help me.
by the time you took
a sing,e step forward,
I was already
plummeting towards
the ground

Some slash their wrists,
Ingest a bottle of pills,
Jump off a high rise building
Hang themselves or
Blow their brains off.
And in that moment
When they are bleeding to death,
Closing their eyes for the last time,
Hanging loose on air,
About to let their weight drop
And let that
Bullet pierce through their skull
Are moments, they feel the most alive.
Maybe suicide
Is meant for that
So very "special moment"
To feel alive,
Just once before
You cease to exist.

...too Scared of life,I can't carry on,
...too Useless for everyone,they all want me gone,
...too Impossible to love,too impossible to care
...too Confused in this broken land,for me there's no one there,
...too Invisible for everyone,they think I'm a bore,
...too Damaged at heart which they gladly tore,
...too Emotional,I can't possibly live on anymore

Fake smile.
Dead eyes.
Scratched wrists.
Bruised thighs.
White pills.
Rope tied
Gun loaded

I think a bullet
Might hurt a little bit less
Than this loneliness

i drew a butterfly on my wrist,
in hope that this feeling would no longer persist.
but things got bad and I started to cry
so the butterfly on my wrist, it had to die.
once again I tried to set myself free
but it seemed my thought had stolen the key.
so this butterfly lived a very short life
killed with fear and a very sharp knife.


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