I think I'm gonna kill myself,
End all of my pain.
Take all the drugs from the shelf,
And never deal with this again.
It wouldn't be that hard,
And nobody would miss me.
Maybe I'd wake up tired,
But if not, I wouldn't care, see?
It's really hard to live now,
And it's killing my mind and soul.
I always feel like a fat cow,
So I do my makeup bold.
I draw attention away from my body,
Trying not to let them see.
I don't want them to know,
The mess that's really me.
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PoetryA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
