I think you know me.
I'm what you feel when
You see the bruises
From the night before.
When you're on
Your fifth bottle of Jack
The day of your
Forgotten A.A. meeting,
When you're on the
Third joint in one
Afternoon and aren't sure
You can resist the fourth.
When you're slitting your
Wrists time and time
Again with your razor,
Not registering the pain.
I'm what drives you
To grab the sixth bottle,
To roll the fourth joint,
Not knowing how to stop.
To find him when you know
He'll just hurt you again,
To deny it every time
And believe yourself.
I'm what drives you
To slit your throat,
To hang by a rope,
To pull the trigger.
To take the extra pills,
To take the leap,
Just so you won't
Feel the pain anymore.
I'm what makes you
Leave this world behind,
Leave all the good things.
I'm hopelessness.
YOU ARE READING
Hopelessness
Şiirsome poems and prose about my personal experiences with mental illness, self harm, and a couple other things like love and such. i do not, under any circumstances, endorse suicide or self harm. these are simply poems i write about my feelings and ex...
