Erica Black~Never Enough (1)

20

(a/n : this is a poem of my own creation so i would appreciate it if you could not send any hate please. i am NOT a professional at this but i tried, thank you.)

i'd write a note

not a letter, a note

no one writes suicide letters

why?

because no one says good bye, expecting to continue the convocation

no one expects a response to their last words

they're final

good byes are forever

id write a note

explaining why

saying good bye

not asking for a reply

this is suicide

not something you can hide

i don't need to confide

ill admit i might of lied

and maybe i could've tried

a bit harder and survived

but there were times that i strived

and tried

to stay alive

this is better than being hospitalized

because i was unable to disguise

how i felt inside

and it was all so hard to describe

no longer able to divide

the inside

from the outside

my mind going into overdrive

i was petrified

of man kind

and what they would advise

i don't know when these thoughts materialized

but suddenly all of my emotions seemed to collide

a lot of people say that, of death, they are terrified

but i don't think they realise

or maybe they do recognise

but choose to try

and let it subside

because those feelings aren't ones that are supposed to be advertised

but i don't understand why

problems don't just vaporise

they stay by our side

and are nearly impossible to hide

so why are we judged by the size of our thighs

or the things we conceal inside

i think it must be a matter of pride

because we always manage to provide

ways to divide

man kind

that could be why so few of us survive

afraid of being chastised

or despised

by our own kind

maybe that's why we decide

to provide

opinions we've almost revised

out of fear of being scrutinized

so what's so wrong with suicide

if no ones ever going to be satisfied

by the things you achieve whilst youre alive

at least let me decide

when and how to say my good byes

for all you know, this could be my time

i don't intend to mime

happiness or fake my prime

because its already been a long climb

and that might've been fine

if the decision to stay was mine

don't get me wrong, I'm not usually one to whine

so maybe it is a sign

that things are starting to fall into line

maybe its time that i tried

to undermine

the story line

and write my own tale

of how my skin got pale

as i grew frail

hiding behind a mask, a veil

I'm so sorry to bale

but i cant pretend this is a fairy tale

and you must admit the signs were quite tell tale

so its not my fault if you fail

to recognise the hints that didn't quite make your priority mail

the ones on the minor scale

I'm growing weak and pale

as it became harder to inhale

and exhale...

so now i set sail

up a heavenly trail

leaving a note

not a letter

a note

because i promise you it is very hard to keep pen pals where I'm going.