I Needed to Vent

I'm not better

It's been months since my last poem,
A lot of words and thoughts wanted to come out but I didn't know how to write them down,
I got high but I still feel so numb,
It will be hard to write about how in life I still feel I drown.

Why am I still here?
I don't want to live, yet I can't make myself die,
It is hard to fail every attempt and the pain it brings it's so severe,
While the pain my mind creates can't even been compared and I don't know why.

Because of my mind, I am not human,
I am a creature that doesn't find any joy or sense in this act everyone calls living,
The "human" writing this down is nonhuman,
Not any logic helps me understand how no one thinks of dying.

I don't know anymore the nonsense I am writing,
I am just tired of these everyday mental battle with myself and my mind,
The never succeded suicide that brings even more suffering,
And how my body is punished by it in a way that can be labeled as cruel or unkind.