A rope sits organized in my stuffy garage. It's firm, and it could hold a human body even the size of mine. I pick it up, and I give it a nice look. My face is expressionless as I see what's right in front of me. I sigh, setting it up. I tie a couple knots and it's in the perfect shape. I pick an area, wrapping it around. All I need is a chair, then it'll all be over. I tiptoe into a quiet room, grabbing a stable chair. I carry it with all my strength, and bring it out. No one was here to stop my absurd actions, thank god. I stand up, and get myself ready for the ultimate plan that I was given. I smile, and I kick the chair. I begin to choke and my body gasps for air, but all I feel is peace. I..am approaching death. It feels nice. Darkness hits me over and over like a car, and there's no going back. All my letters to everyone sat neatly next to where I was hanging.
(Will be continued story..I'm gonna write "Letter."..thank you for reading.)
YOU ARE READING
Your Depression is Showing
PoetryThis is just some short things I write about. Some may be about me, but some may not. I hope you don't get depressed while reading this. = Don't copy any of the stories that are presented in this book. Thank you.
