[ blue - sadness, ignorance, irrational, regret, fault, lonely, sorrow ]
* * *
❝ i've been drowning, but now i'm not because i'm sinking. don't you get it? i already died! ❞
-
Once upon a time there was a boy and there was a lake.
And a death.
The boy was known as trouble,
the lake the opposite of that,
but he sure knew how to ruin a reputation.
And one day,
after many others,
the boy's cries were finally heard,
from his own reflection he saw in the lake.
He was crying.
Not the cry you associate with in the movies,
but the one where you can barely breathe,
where you're pratically reaching out for air,
when you can't stop yourself,
where everything you've held in finds a way to come out,
where you don't know what's happening,
you cannot pay mind to your surroundings,
because the sobs you fight hard to contain,
tears it's way through you and into the open,
and you're left with cuts, bruises and scars,
but not where everyone else will notice,
because no one will,
but where you'll notice every time you see own reflection,
and everytime it's screaming out for help.
He gasped for air,
as he felt the leaves crumple beneath him,
and he noticed he was killing something.
But the saddest part of all,
was that it wouldn't be the only thing he'd kill.
His icy, cold, isolated, piercing blue eyes noticed the careless water
that felt no pain
unlike him.
He saw his reflection,
the one screaming,
the one crying,
the one with messy hair,
and puffy eyes,
and a cold stare that held secrets,
that held a past,
that felt pain.
He did not want to be exposed to it no longer,
and he took a step closer, to the point where his foot was above the water,
to the point where he was about to fall in.
Then he fell,
and he fell below,
a stinging began taking over,
and a sudden urge for air kicked in.
His arms moved,
his head did too,
and he gasped for air,
but recieved more of what was killing him,
and less of what would save him.
His heart ached,
veins pounded,
and mind raced.
He did not die with a smile,
or a feeling of happiness.
He felt the opposite,
he was left with eternal sadness.
And seconds before he died,
he thought of the chance of being saved,
because he did not want to die.
He liked the thought of him dead,
and the feeling of being a step closer to death,
but when he fell in,
he realized
two words,
with six letters,
that might've been enough to stop his decision;
help me
a/n
with every new hair color it starts with a poem, and i had to re-write it because my work didn't save.
and it's worse than what it was before and that pisses me off xc
YOU ARE READING
Colors ↠ m.c
Fanfiction❝Why do you dye your hair all the time?❞ #stopmentalhealthstigma #freeyourbody #mentalhealthstigma
