the poems from the heart.

end .

sometimes i think of ending it.

i think of the bathroom floor, swift motions against my wrist until im bleeding out. An empty pill bottle that used to rattle and shake.

i think of the woods, cold and dark. crunching of leaves and i walk towards one of the large oak trees. the rope in my hands as i sit on the wet muddy ground, tying it into an intricate, well known knot.

and i'll climb.

i will tie it, and fall.

i will think of my brother, my mother, and my friends. i will remember their voices, their laughs, their smiles.

i will smile as the rope burns my throat, and i gasp for air, choking out for breath.

i will hug myself, until i go limp.