Desperate Cries For Help

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Suicide: an action, that is irreversible. 

Life: something that you never get back. 

Meaning: something people strive for, everyone want to mean something to someone. 

Love: something everyone wants. But love is for the lucky and the brave. 

Voices: the things that keep me up at night. Keep me from moving forward, being brave, and doing what I want. 

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This is... This is it... My desperate cries for help as I sit in the dark shadowed corners of life hiding from the good and only getting the bad. 

This isn't poetry it's just thoughts. 

A deep dark look inside my dark messed up head. 

Thoughts that make people worry. 

Thoughts that make people think I'm insane... But only because I am

I'm not normal.  I am crazy.  I am nothing. I am a mystery. I don't know myself very well, and I find new things out everyday. I'm weak. I'm hurtful. I'm rude. I belittle people and scream. I forgive to easy. 

I get myself into trouble that I ant get out of.  Or so for what I have heard...

There's a lot you don't know about me. 

A lot you probably didn't want to know. 

I'm a lone in this huge universe on this speck we call earth. 

Alone in my schizophrenic mindset. 

Waiting for someone to pull my out of the darkness and help me see the light. 

But lets face it... When you see shattered glass, do you sweep it up and piece it back together, or do you sweep it up and toss it in the trash because; honestly... Who has that kind of time... 

Read on if you dare to take a look. It's pretty messed up...  This isn't to make you depressed or a guide to commit suicide... 

This is purely for me. 

To rant. 

Vent. 

And make desperate cries for help that no one can hear.

My name is Love and I'm alone, used, schizophrenic, depressed, scared and confused...

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