The hard truth is that no matter how much we give ourselves PEP talks or allow others to advice us, no matter how much we try to be strong ....
All the pretty little words could mean nothing when your mind and heart is drenched in and fested with poison.
You see, everything in our body is like a DC connection, one small malfunction and BAM!
And just like that, if your mind is not in the right state, the heart tendons will be a disastrous tangle and when the heart has its doubts, the mind will become a ladyrinth of constellation and your mind's worse enemy.
My mind created its own monsters each day that approached me. I was in no control, anymore. The only triumph I felt was going to bed and being thankful for surviving another day that tainted my soul .
Thing is, I'm not suicidal. If I was, I would have not been alive right now. And that itself saved me.
But I believe that Suicide is some kind of superpower. Everyone isn't capable of putting a gun to their fucking mouth!
They call those who actually can... Cowards, others call them brave, but I call them extraordinary, simply because I don't know if frothing from overdosing on that bottle of pills, with a note left on the side, etched with pretty little words means -
You just saved yourself the heartache of this cruel world that teaches that there's no imperfection, but only perfection,
Or, you're a real fucking selfish coward, knowing the trauma you'd cause your loved ones if you pulled that trigger...
But there's one thing I'm pretty much adamant about...
If you can pull that trigger, jump off a cliff, overdose on those pills, slit your wrist -
You're extraordinary from a bunch of ordinary, and I'm settling with extraordinary coward.
*****
Guys, this isn't really a poem, I know. I wrote this a long time ago when I was at my lowest and very little and came across it some time ago and I thought I'd share it with your guys. ♥️
Thank you for all the beautiful comments and votes. I really appreciate the love you guys showered me with thus far. I love you guys!
YOU ARE READING
SILENT TEARS ✔️
PoésieGuys, I can't tell if I'm a sad writer or just a sad person. Enough about me. No one cares, right?? But I care about you enjoying the poems I've written for you *sobbing*. So grab a tub of ice cream and a box of tissues, and dive right into it! H...
