Raindrops on roses and bloodstains on linens, roses and long sleeves that keep my scars hidden, jumping off buildings like birds without wings, theses are a few of my favorite things!
Pale white complexions and graveyards with ditches, dark rooms and locked doors and bodies with stitches, feeling the pain and the high that it brings, these are a few of my favorite things!
Friends in black dresses with bouquets of flowers, the band aids, the gauze, and the burning from showers. The thought of not living to see the next spring, these are a few of my favorite things!
In the long nights. When the words sting. When I'm feeling sad. I just turn to one of my favorite things, then I don't feel so bad.
YOU ARE READING
The Sound of Suicide (Not Mine)
PoetryI did not write this but I really like it. it's originally from the Sound of Music but this is with different words and Is about depression and self harm
