Warning- this is a bit more intense then my other pieces so if you are triggered by the topic of suicide I ask you to not read this and read another one of my pieces not so focused on this topic.
One,
Two,
Three,
Breathe.
It shouldn't be this hard, it's just breathing isn't it?
It's something I do easily until I get home.
Home.
Full of smiles.
Was full of smiles until the last bit of family that could be determined by the blood splattered on the walls because they but the gun to their temple and squeezed.
I had tried everything I could.
The screams still echo in my mind
"GET OUT"
Their voice overlapped with mine.
"STOP!"
It was to late.
I was to late.
The tears falling down my face were met by the blood of the only family I had left.
Then there was nothing.
Or maybe there was so much it felt like nothing at all.
I was falling down a tunnel so full of emotion, my eyes saw nothing at all.
I had nothing.
I have nothing.
My greatest wish is that I feel the way they did when they took their last breath and their pain was gone.
But for now I am here.
Free falling in a tunnel so full of pain as as I smile and say
I'm ok
Your questions are screaming
Stop
And my sighs of "im ok"
Are the echoes of the trigger being squeezed.
One,
Two,
Three,
Breathe.
~maddie
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Colorful Silence
PoesíaStories of a quiet girl, with a loud mind. All of these pieces are mine so please give me credit if you decide to quote part of it. These stories mean a lot to me and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them! This d...
