i am a number —
a depressed teen
who cuts her wrists
types on a screen,
you get the jist.
i will be a number —
'23 will come and go
sad and soon — forgotten
they'll all claim they loved me so
they'll say my tale was rotten —
i'll go down in books as a number —
"the sad truth is
you can never tell
and sympathy you give
but — they still face hell"
you will see me as a number —
"the fifth this year,
uncommon in this town"
do you think i really care?
considered it before i drowned?
but i am not a number
im a girl —
facing hell
beaten
— forgotten —
berated
criticized
"happiness is a — choice"
"loneliness is a — choice"
"this is all a — choice"
why do i do this to my skin
why does the world ignore the pain im in
why can't I choose to love my life
why does it feel like I need my dear knife
why are these marks so hard to ignore
why do I find myself always wanting more
why do I love them
why do I love them
why do I need them
why will I be a number when I die?
YOU ARE READING
secrets.
PoesíaI am not happy. I don't know if I've ever been, or if I ever will be. Plenty of shit has happened to me, but plenty of shit has happened to everyone so I shouldn't feel special. I just wish I didn't have a normal person's life. I wish I didn't have...
