Poetry

Maybe.

I wish you could see the dark figures in my head. They follow me. Burn me. Make me feel as though I am dead. A dark cloud. A storm of some sort. A hurricane in the making. Drenched in water. I am drowning in this storm. The choice to live or to die. The choice to breath or to cry. Sanity is no more. Thunder breaking my path. Happiness fading the further I walk. The ground is cracked. The ground is ruined. Mudd everywhere. Its hard to walk. Its hard to breathe. I get stuck in the mudd. I'm giving up. I'm already stuck so should I try. I tried to live. I tried to die. I took pills hoping to die. Another hospital is not what I want. They tried to pin me down. It never works. Kill yourself and they call you crazy. Crazy dreams. Crazy nightmares. Irrelevant and unwanted. Maybe if someone smiled at me every once in awhile I wouldn't be like this. Maybe if someone asked me if I'm okay I'd breathe a little more. Maybe I wasn't meant to be. Maybe I wasn't meant to be anything. Maybe I should die.