*NOT A POEM MY FRIEND MADE ME POST THIS it's a short story instead.
Die. They only pity you. No one could love you. "Please leave me alone." I whimpered. Weak. Fat. You'd be better off dead. I felt tears slowly rolled down my cheeks as I realized everything they said IS true. I tried to whip them before they noticed. It was to late. Hated. Cut deeper honey and everything will get better. Everyone would be happier if you were dead. They got louder. The thoughts came in faster. Pull the trigger, overdose, there's a rope. Honey, can't you tell everyone wants you dead. Give in. You won't last anyways. You're a disgrace. I tried to run, but you can't run from your own mind. My head was pounding by now and to be honest I wanted to give in. Maybe they're right. Not only would everyone else be happy, but I would too. With tears clouding my vision and their voices screaming in my mind, I decided it was time. I slowly reached for the knife. "One, two, they all hate you. Three, four, I can't take it no more. Five, six, I'm sorry for all of this. Seven, eight, They won't even care. Nine, ten, by twenty I will be dead. Eleven, twelve, you should all know by now. Thirteen, fourteen, I left a suicide note. Fifth-teen, sixteen, I'm sorry I couldn't be better. Seventeen, eighteen, I'm sorry I was even born. Nineteen, twenty, at least you'll be happy now." As the rhyme came to a end the knife reached my throat. "One cut and I'll finally be gone." A smile made a way to my face at that thought. I saw blood pour out of my legs, stomach, and arm from where the knife made its mark. I took a deep breath before pressing the knife to the largest vein in my neck. And for once I was relaxed, happy, and my mind was quiet. They're were happy because for once, they knew they won.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PuisiThese are the poems I write at my most depressed times to get my feelings out. If you ever feel down and need someone to talk to or something to relate to this is here or I'm here for you.
