Most people are living their life.
They don't worry about being trusted with knives.
They are partying,
These are the years of your life.
Most people my age don't think about death.
They don't care about risk.
They aren't standing atop a building ready to jump.
Why am I?
Here I am a child of only 15 years and I'm ready to die.
I'm ready to put a gun to my temple and call it quits.
I'm drinking to drink and I'm cutting to escape.
Here is a child who can't survive on her own, not because of money, but because I'll kill myself.
There! I admitted it! I would kill myself before I moved on...that's okay though. Nobody knows, I can continue being strong outside and falling apart inside.
Then when the day comes where I lose all of my control, The day where I cut til I can paint the walls in blood, when my death is fresh in everybody's mind. That's the day when I can say I'm okay and I won't be lying.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoésieA collection of poems reflecting life. Contains scenes of depression, anxiety, suicide. Probably not updated frequently. *CAUTION MAY CONTAIN MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS* *TRIGGER WARNING: CERTAIN THINGS WROTE HERE MAY TRIGGER DEPRESSION...
