I saw their wrists,
Riddled with brushstrokes of red, red blood
And I wondered,
Why ?
I saw them drink and smoke,
Chase after an illusion,
And I wondered,
Why ?
I saw them jump,
From high, high ground,
And I wondered,
Why ?
I saw them take their lives,
And I wondered,
Why ?
I always wondered why ?
Until it all happened to me.
The brushstrokes I used to wonder about
Were a red masterpiece.
The illusions,
It was magic.
I wasn't falling,
I was flying for once.
I was an angel,
I wanted to go back home.
____________________________________________________________________
You see, being suicidal or depressed isn't wrong, it's just what happens sometimes.
But whenever you feel too distraught,
Remember to love yourself.
Even if it seems impossible.
You deserve love, no matter what.
YOU ARE READING
Way Ward
ПоэзияLife is a jumbled mess. And from within this mess, I'm gifting you "your" stories, along with the stories of some other lost souls. Way Ward - A way to find your lost self.
