A poem a day keeps the therapist away

Binge

I binged so bad I wished for death,
the type of damage you can't do with a single breath,
I cried and I cried, yet no-one understood, my mother said "just stop",
I didn't think I could,
cries turned hoarse, tears turned red,
All this misery hung from my neck like thread,
A thread the colour of black, woven from the sky,
Maybe this is it, my turn to say goodbye,
What's the point of living, when nothing is done right,
living in constant fear, paralysed by fright,
I'm stuck like a bird with a broken wing, afraid to break through, afraid to sing,
How does one escape? Permanently stuck on self destruct, i know the end is nigh, but please, whatever you do, just let me die.