Self harm.
It's a choice.
Not a good one, but a choice nonetheless.
Picking up that blade.
Putting those nails to your flesh.
Drowning yourself.
Causing yourself pain.
It's all a choice.
None of them are good.
Not one of them are the answer.
Yet that's how I feel.
That's how it is.
I don't know how to change it.
I'm not sure how to fix myself.
So I make that choice.
Over.
And over again.
I played decision roulette.
And I lost the draw.
YOU ARE READING
Suicide Poems From A Broken Soul
PoesíaNot for the weak of heart. Even the brightest smiles have the darkest feelings behind them. We all have a story. Happy, sad, angry, paranoid. We all do. Our smiles can be the greatest boundaries between ourselves and everyone else. Our smiles don't...
