I'm popping pills because it'll help the sadness.
Mother never noticed that I was the baddest.
My head is made up of tons of madness,
Splattering blood on this blank canvas.
I can't handle all this pain,
And my weight won't change,
No loss or gain.
Put a bullet through my brain.
I should probably just die,
Seems all I can do is cry.
My death is ruled a suicide,
Please just dry your eyes.
Don't you dare sit there and weep,
My secrets you wouldn't keep.
I was always the black sheep,
And I was never asleep.
I heard the secrets you kept from me,
The fights you never wanted me to see.
And the memories won't let me be,
Feels like I'm drowning in the deep.
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PoésieA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
