I lay here in my bed. So quiet, so lonely. This room is so dark I can't see my scarred up arms in front of me. But I can't help but let these thoughts of suicide into my head. One bad day could be the end but then again.. what day isn't bad?.. I sit here all alone in the dark with only my thoughts to battle. What is stopping me from pulling out that blade? From making a cut one last time.. What is stopping me from grabbing my knife and stabbing it through my side? What's stopping me from tying the rope around my neck and kicking the chair away? What's stopping me from releasing my final breath so i can forever fall asleep? I just want to know.. What is stopping me from letting go?..
YOU ARE READING
Book Of Demons..
PoetryDone somewhat in poetry form, mostly quite dark, and a lot is not poems. Just stuff that goes through my head. Mostly about failure, demons, murder, blood, etc.
