This isn't exactly a poem, just my thoughts in a form of one.
I can't call myself suicidal,
Not anymore,
I wont kill myself,
I couldn't let my family and friends blame theirselves,
They would wish they had found help,
But I don't want help,
I don't want to talk about it,
I don't want to talk about how I feel, and why I feel this way,
Because honestly, I don't know,
All I know is, Death doesn't scare me anymore,
I'm dead on the inside,
Waiting for the world to catch up.
24/7 Death is with me, on my mind, in my heart, eating me inside out,
Thoughts of my head slamming through a windsheild, make me smile,
Knowing any second right now, I could die,
Wishing that I could thank who ever kills me,
For taking me away from this world, taking the pain away,
They would do me a favor,
These murders in my head, Ideas swaying, ways to kill, its worth the high,
People screaming for mercy, bleeding out, breaking down, screaming out,
All so amusing,
Jail? its just another holding place, people look at me, and know they're the same,
I'm alone anyway, locking me up would do nothing,
These scary people around me, aren't so scary, when you realize you're worse.
