~ * ~ * ~
Poetry
~ * ~ * ~
Lay down on the pillow
Hope for a better life
Think it's not happening
So you go find a knife
Pick up another blade
Slice it through your skin
Tell yourself that the scars help you win
Constantly wondering
Why you can't die Instead feeling like
You're living a lie
You say nobody understands
The pain that you feel,
But trust me, I know
That this pain is real
But deep down
Somewhere inside
You finally realize
That part of you died.
It's hard when you're
Always bullied and worried
So you down the pills
Feeling unhurried.
Now you're in the sky
Dancing in the clouds
You're doing it now,
Rising above the crowds.
Your life was short
A tragic ending
All the days
Were constantly blending.
You have no final words,
No unforgetten regret
But you've left the rest of the world In an endless fret.
You may feel free as A bird in the wind
You're free from this
Cruel whirlwind.
Now you're singing your
Suicidal Symphony,
As the other voices
Meet yours in harmony.
The voices of those
Who took their lives
Just like you with
Their pointed knives.
An army of lost souls,
Who took themselves away
Because of the cruel things
The world loved to say.
~ * ~ * ~
Written by;
Random_Logic
أنت تقرأ
The Suicide Story
غير روائي'The Suicide Story' is a collection of poems, short stories, letters, advice, and so on to raise awareness and vent about the struggles of living with/around mental illness. This is a collaborative project where users can submit with a dedication, o...
