If I killed myself tomorrow,
With no happiness left to borrow
From loved ones that tried to keep me afloat for so long,
Repeating fake promises and selfish blackmailing,
Would you believe me?
If I killed myself tomorrow,
With no purpose left to fullfill,
No person, place or thing worth the internal scuffle,
And dreams left to decay,
Like pieces of an unfinished puzzle.
Would you believe me?
If I killed myself tomorrow,
With my lifeless face plastered across the front page,
And lose acquaintances posing as friends,
Claiming I was a 'care-free soul' who'd be now blessing heaven,
Would you believe me?
If I killed myself today,
Would your mind go back to the days that I'd say:
'The hurt is too profound, I think I'm not okay'
And would you regret,
Not getting me the help
That I so desperately begged for?
Would your mind go back to the days,
Of calling it all a phase'
Or telling me to expand my faith.
And would you regret,
Fighting me at my every storm-like cry for help?
If I killed myself today,
And left a poorly scribbled note sealed with tears,
That said you could have saved me from myself,
If you'd just shaken off your poor judgement and paid heed.
Would you finally believe what I'd always said?
YOU ARE READING
Unfinished Paintings
PoetryA collection of my prose, poetry and epiphanies over the past couple of years. I've always loved writing and composing, but I'd never assumed anything I wrote was worth being read by anyone but myself. Writing has always been a way for my mind to co...
