My thoughts 💭 : "DIE, die, die die. go kill yourself. alive or dead nobody will notice. take this knife put a lil color an juicy red."
indeed I died, I'm dead. its been a few months now. I've a grind memories it was so fast. After a nice meeting with some friends, during I was thinking about my death. And those people that I rlly loved didn't notice. I went home.
When I said goodbye, I thought it will be my last.
I was mad at me once again crying, cursing on me, wish i was never born. I just want to hit my head on my wall until I'll pass out. I hate the im acting, I'm, I look . Just want to
I was alone at home go in the kitchen cursing that i was a mistake. I took this black knife that my mom used to cut the meat with. With my two hands, I put very close my stomac.
I was ready, ready...........ready to bleed, ready to fall on the ground, ready to sends this messages to all that used to love (my goodbye letter which said how sorry I was to being me )
the knife touche my skin. I wasn't ready die but ready to kill me, stabb myself.
In my head
but I didn't.
not bc it was bad but bc my sister came in the kitchen.
—
I wish somebody will notice me again.
YOU ARE READING
Dear me,
Poetry(Attention des propos choquants, haineux envers moi-même. Mes pensés en transparence.) Je m'appelle Nina et je pense que j'ai besoin d'aide.
