Every morning when he would wake up,
He'd roll out of bed and grab his coffee mug.
He'd fill up the cup 'till it overflowed,
Then he'd pour it away, his blood running cold.
He'd laugh and he'd smile but it was never enough,
He could never replace the black hole in his gut.
He knew, way deep down, that he wasn't okay,
But told himself 'Tomorrow's a new day'.
All that he wanted was a normal life,
To build a family with kids and a wife.
And for a short time he succeeded his goal,
But then his hope faded, his wife chose to go.
What did he do, he gave up on the fight.
Decided to hide and give up on his life.
He stopped eating full meals, stopped going outside.
Stopped pretending that everything was alright.
He rolled up his long sleeves, stared at the skin.
Dragged the blade up and down, relief setting in.
He watched the blood cascade down,
His emotions returning,
He looked in the mirror,
His stomach now churning.
His life was a mess,
There was nothing he could do.
He dragged the blade one more time,
Thought of what he could choose.
He was out of time.
His next breath would end him like his noose.
YOU ARE READING
Sad 3am Poetry
PoetryJust a bunch of poems that I write at like, 3am instead of sleeping. These are likely never going to actually be posted at 3am, it will just be whenever I write them.
