Can you feel it?
The dead weight in your legs from the sleeping pills, the dizziness from the alcohol, the soft throbbing of your pulse as blood is pumping out of your wrists?
That's it.
That's what we've been waiting for, that's the quiet comfort.
The beauty of dying.
YOU ARE READING
Quotes, Poems,and Lyrics About Self Harm Self Hate,and Depression
PoetryThese are all not mine. If you wish to read my own poems read, My Mind is a Mess.
