TRIGGER WARNING!!
03.09.20
I've cried too hard for too long as I debated death.
Over and over, all I wanted was a quick overdose,
a quick way to escape the pain.
Until the guilt set it
and made me realise,
suicide feels too selfish.
Instead I turned my sadness into art
and my pain into strength.
Desperately wanting to carve up my skin,
I bled on a page.
My screams are silent, hidden behind closed doors,
and computer screens.
All these horrible emotions kept secret in notebooks.
I'm too afraid to speak about it, so I write it down
That's how my poetry is made.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/239727500-288-k332705.jpg)
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4. Memories and Feelings That Still Haunt Me
PoetryI've cried too hard for too long as I debated death. Over and over, all I wanted was a quick overdose, a quick way to escape the pain. Until the guilt set it and made me realise, suicide feels too selfish. Instead I turned my sadness into art and my...