I'm in a bed
With sucidal though swarming like bees in my head,
They never will calm down until the temptation is fed,
Opening a new world that has shown new colors on my pallet that
Only held colors of red and black
That are produced from my wrists
"Why aren't you dead yet"
My parents ask in dissapointment
As I close the door and lock out the Demons who have been
pushing me off the edge
And now finally I have grasped the fact that I'm not wanted,
Not loved,
Not needed,
And I have no purpose.
so I'm not afraid anymore.
I carved your name on
the golden bullet and
Pulled the trigger
And as the blood splattered on the cold pavement it spelled your name
Letting you know I was never alone.
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
