and i'm just lying here trying to come up with a poetic way to tell you i want to kill myself.
i tried telling them that different things worked for different people, but i was met with a cold gaze and another psychologist season on Thursday.
oh i'm convinced that these scars are my V.I.P tickets to hell.
you said, this is how it works,
there is right and wrong.
there is black and white.
you're either here or you're not.
and you can give up or fight.
no, this is how it works,
you cry until you laugh,
and everyone must breathe until their dying breath.
oh you'll try until you can't,
but at the end, there stands death.
this one is for you. the one who didn't know until it was too late to stop me and too early to say goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
D R O W N
Poésiewe want to burn and die to fill the page as delicate words and memories and what we want what we need in life is more poetry and less pain but it's only a glimpse into a forbidden world a beautiful scene sharp to the touch so take your look if you...
