Waiting to be released is like waiting to die.
Knowing you want to but never doing it right.
They don’t understand the constant burning deep inside.
The intrusive thoughts in my head that I can’t show.
Must hide.
Not for me, for you.
Because sometimes I worry that you can’t handle this mess inside my brain.
It’s like cloudy foggy sky
With no light at the end of the tunnel.
YOU ARE READING
suicidio
PoetryTRIGGER WARNING!!! A poetic take on teen suicide, depression and eating disorders, written by a disordered kid.
