----------------------- (Dedicated to my suicidal times)
(Attn: I never cut and nearly commited suicide before and I am done being suicidal six months ago- I am just creatively writing and sharing my experiences and feelings.)
Blood, as red as roses, run down my arm in defeat...
My arm is criss-crossed with tiers and tiers of cuts...
My mind is drifting off to a temporary sleep...
My body aches to feel the hugs that everyone wish for...
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My heart beats slower and slower as the blood streams...
I am worth nothing to the society that has claimed rule...
In this own society, I am left behind...
Why am I left alone to die!?
-/-///-/////-//-/--/---/-/-/--/-/--/-/-
My voice, deemed mute by everyone else...
Does anyone know how much of my life has been a hell?
I wonder why I am doomed to screaming silently,
is it because of who they think I am to be?
Only they seemed to refuse to tell.
-/-///////////-----------/-/-/----/--/-/
All this time, I feel like I have never felt whole.
Each day, each night, I noticed I am getting crazier...
Why does death feel soo cold?
Is this what it feels like to be nothing and hollow?
My bestfriend and paintbrush is my razor.
