With an aching heart I lied in bed, just two voices inside my head.
Hold on, one of the two said. The other one wished me dead.
This is too much, I felt inside. With every second that passed a piece of me died.
One moment I was calm, the next I was not.
Why did I even care, was my next thought.
I'd rather die, I whispered to the dark, my fingers tracing that one mark.
When will it get better?
How about never?
I used to have deep within a special spark, a burning flame warming my heart. But all of that is dead and gone. My final decision; I am going home.
Whether it is wrong or right, I am giving up tonight.
