No Help

I lied. I need help. I always need help. 

I am drowning in my own depression. 

Depression made by this challenge. 

This oppression, this prejudice, this lie. 

They are all made by a joker's mind. 

His mind, that is named life. 

I need help. I crave help. I am scared. 

I am frightened by all of these illusions. 

I need my medications, I need my weed. 

I need something to not stimulate me. 

I want to sleep peacefully. I want to. 

But I am a dead man walking, so why? 

I shall savor help when I receive it. 

But none gave one. None are concerned. 

I am alone in this world full of misery. 

Should I despise the people that walked? 

The people that walked avoiding me? 

Or should I just vanish from this sin? 

I do not want to live. I need to die. 

Here in this bed, I should lie. 

Lie after drinking the sweet toxin. 

Sweet liquor made up of tears. 

Tears of sorrow from surviving this. 

Surviving this ordeal, or this mirage? 

I do not even know what to do anymore. 

I should just gulp my Aquamarine drink. 

While floating in absolute ecstasy. 

Oh so sweet experience named death. 

I am sorry to my family, but none can help. 

No one can help when I need it the most. 

My suicide is my Magnum Opus. The end. 

My death is my masterpiece. A beauty. 

All must reach its ultimatum to the One. 

I ended mine earlier in a blaze of Scarlet. 

Scarlet flames that enveloped my soul. 

While it burned me to hell and back. 

This is the life of one's selfishness. 

His selfish request of love and help. 

No one can give his request a shot. 

He is worthless. A fool in believing. 

Believing in the folly of Erasmus. 

While bathing in boiling sugar drink.