Conscience: *Hears loud squealing noises...*
The loud cries that echo in the halls draw the Conscience into the bedroom.
Conscience: *Mouth drops as soon as she opens the door.*
X: 😥😪😭💔
Conscience: "What's the matter? You've spilled your feelings all over the floor!"
X: "I just wanna...I just...wanna...😭"
Conscience: "Nonsense! Don't cry so much. Talk with me."
X: "I need to get out of here...out of LIFE! I don't want to be by myself! I feel alone!"
Conscience: "Honey, this will not always be. You'll make friends later in life."
X: "People don't make friends 'later in life!' People act as if I'm poisonous: if they touch me, I'll take away their joy and elation. I'll make them miserable!"
Conscience: "That's not true!"
X: "Yes it is, because it keeps happening! There must be something wrong with me if I scare everyone away! I try hard to be nice, but I just... I just...😥😭😭😭😭😭😭"
Conscience: "Life is life. You're on your own."
*Conscience fades away right before X's eyes. *
X: "No! Please don't leave! Please!"
*X falls into a hole of agony.*
What is left of her, now?
YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poetry(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...
