and for a week i was fine and then suddenly i wanted to die.
you're not here.
why aren't you here?
you said you would come but you're not here.
i think i need to leave
to find some inner peace
i think it's getting bad again
i can't find her number
the number on the card she gave me
before telling me to have a good day
and call her if i need to
i can't find the card
it's not in any of these drawers
i'm alone.
that's alright.
i've done this before
i've been through hell and i've survived
i am alive
i am alive and that is all that matters
i refuse to die.
is it my time?
it doesn't make sense for me to keep living
when being alive feels just the same
as being dead
i'm in my head
i'm in my bed
i should be dead
why am i not dead
how am i supposed to live
with the way my brain is
how am i supposed to get better,
and stop hiding behind these letters,
if getting better
didn't work
the first time i tried.
how am i supposed to survive?
YOU ARE READING
I Wrote This At Midnight
PoetryI Wrote This At Midnight is a collection of poems I have and will write, that were most likely written late at night (or just feel very chaotic). As always, thank you for your support, I hope you enjoy :) Warning: The poems included are not censored...
