The Struggles in Life

The Rope or Insanity?

Silent cries fill my room,

shaking so hard when my phone rings,

I say everything okay,

I say that way to often,

I crawl off my tear soaked bed,

Grab my razor,

No body knows what goes on in here,

I look at my scared legs,

Going over old scars with my knife,

The knife is dull so I can fell every one,

I like that,

It's a reminder i'm human,

But at the same time with my knife I want it sharper,

I want it sharper for I can cut deeper faster,

What's the point on trying to better myself anymore?

I've tried and got lost in the mist,

I've lost every race,

I should just let go of the rope,

My upper body strength doesn't exist,

I've been hanging on this rope too long,

The wind has thrashed me around,

I've hurt the people who came to help me,

So even if I do get out of this I would be throwing others off the cliff hoping they caught themselves or learned to fly,

I don't help others,

My so called"help" only destroys them more,

So This rope I've been hanging on well there's ground beneath it,

That's were I'm at now,

The unstable ground,

The ground that whispers temptations,

The ground is where the Devil is,

Climbing the rope will get me out of here,

But I need strength to climb the rope, 

I need a helping hand to pull me out of the devil's grasp,

But no one can handle me,

So I sit with the Devil as he feeds me the lies and shows my knife,

One more scar right?

That's not going to happen one leads to others,

So at this point I can try climbing this rope again,

Hoping somebody will walk by and help,

Or I can sit with my demons and being on the edge of insanity.