What's the point anymore? There isn't one. I should just end it, do everyone a favor.
I just cant do it anymore. I ruined everything and I disappointed everyone I care about.
Everything would be better if I were dead. There's only maybe three people that would care.
I just want to be selfish this one time.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
