I want to stop.
I want this to stop.
I don’t wanna think anymore. I’m so tired.
I don’t sleep enough.
I wanna cry. I wanna die.
I want to be loved, I know I am.
I feel like crap.
I’m obsessed with control,
but I’m tired of holding on to everything in that delicate order.
I’m tired of being in control.
I don’t want to think.
My mind is too loud.
The lights are too bright.
I want to wake up.
I can’t focus.
I can’t think about what’s happening.
I hate this.
I hate how I’m always immersed in my own little world.
I never think about people.
I say I’m helping people, I say it’s hard,
But aren’t I the person I’m doing this for in the end?
Scared of the guilt, scared of the pain,
I’m selfish, that’s what.
She says I’m good, she says I’m wonderful.
She lies.
She wants me to feel better. She thinks she’s worse.
She’s wrong.
Slightly better now. Slightly.
I’ve got to get out of this mood.
I’ve got to hide it.
What’s the point? Who am I doing this for?
I don’t know.
I know nothing.
I feel useless. I am useless.
All I do is waste the oxygen and others’ time.
I want to stab myself. I’m scared of the pain.
I’m scared of dying. I’m scared of the dark. I’m scared of interaction.
I'm scared of myself.
What am I not scared of?
All I can do is write, write, write.
Who even wants to read this crap?
What’s the point of writing? What’s the point of trying?
No one cares.
I’m just going through the motions.
Maybe one day I'll come to my senses,
maybe, maybe,
maybe someday I'll stop doing what I don't want to do,
maybe, maybe.
But now I'm just here,
just here in this darkness.
And all I wish for is death.
But I'm scared of dying.
Will it hurt? Will it be painful?
I don't know.
I know nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Death
Poetry"You kept saying that you would never die, that you would live forever. But here you are, and here I am. Isn't it funny? I'm here to take your soul. Did I mention, I love my job? Oh right! I never told you. I'm the reaper who will reap your life." B...
