Suicidal thoughts ||Editing||

The Walls speak.

I look to you,
To talk and laugh,
To give me advice when all seems lost.
But alone I lie, and alone I stay
With nothing to do all night and day.
The walls keep whispering,
I'm slowly sinking in.
I wish I could shut out the words they say.
But curiosity kills the cat and I lean in to hear,
The horrors they speak of,
The walls have ears. HL

After what happened last summer my condition worsened.
I had a phobia for socialization but now I believe I have a phobia for life.
The doctors diagnosed me, they all said my condition got worse, they asked me to take my drugs, but drugs can not heal what has been broken away.
My parents sent money but money couldn't heal a broken soul. Nobody realized what I needed was love and this was something I never seemed to get.

I went to church last Sunday, Maryann my caretaker told me to. The priest saw me alone and called for a talk.
I told him I was broken, he asked me to pray.
And that night I did, I tried to pray and then I slept. But it never faded away.

The marks were there whenever I showered, I felt it all again. I wished I could fade away.
And that I did.
Confided in my room, alone with my thoughts, the walls seemed to speak, they told me to to sing.
They gave me a beat, their melodious voices calmed me to sleep, at times they scolded, at times they soothed, but now at least, I had real friends.

All day we would talk and play. I wrote letters to them and gave my them tattoos. They never shyed away like the other children did, they were there with me all through my pains.

Last night they beckoned me to sleep next to them, to listen more closely, a favour I couldn't refuse my friends.
And so I went, I laid next to my friends and drew my ear closer to hear their whispers.
That night, they told me again, all of my secrets. They reminded me of the night, I could never forget.

I cried that night, tears of pain. I had lost my first true friends. Indeed I was alone.

~~~~~~~~~~
I hope this chapter touched you, the way it touched me.

The poem above does not belong to me. It was enclosed in the dairy of my late friend and I refuse to take credit for it.
Yes! Her walls spoke to her.

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Let's save a soul.
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