A boy who thought he was a failure to this world
Never saw how his life would unfold.
Trapped in a downward spiral,
Of lies and mistakes, lies and mistakes,
He never thought there could be peace for him,
Never believed in happily-ever-afters.
As he cried alone, alone, lamenting himself
Whose arms also cried, dripping crimson tears on the glass in his hand,
He wished without hope that things would change,
But there was no one to rescue him from himself.
So he decided to take the pain away himself, by taking the pills,
Locking his trembling, ghost-white fingers around the bottle.
He slipped into darkness, black, and tranquil nothingness,
But not before figuring out that this was his last mistake.
This time, he fought to live, because he
Realized he wasn't ready to die just yet.
YOU ARE READING
These Insufficient Words
PoetryPoetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. -Robert Frost This is my own collection of thoughts. My own stories, through the deepest sorrow and highest peaks of happiness I've had in my rather brief life, and s...
