They ask me why I want to die—I tell them—
I am already dead.
They pump that forceful air supply—no ears
Hear words clearly said.
White drowns the place—all space
Leaves me feeling like an empty face
In the hospital bed.
My family cries, I give them lies,
"Accidental overdose"
Wouldn't want to take the time
To get too close.
The truths I've told have only killed me more.
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PoetryI've been working on this for awhile Most impressive Ranking #482 in poem out of 6.1k stories
