Today, my friends made fun of depression.
They laughed about suicide.
They pointed out the cuts on my hands and arms
And they laughed some more.

"I'm going to slit my wrist too
And even put a band-aid on it!"
And they laughed again
While looking at me.

They made faces
While drawing lines on their skin
Mimicking how I had cut mine
Laughing at how I bled

Is it that funny?
Did you even know what I felt that night?
When the world was blind
And you were thinking when's everything going to be alright

When the world was dead
Of your screams and cries
And no one can't notice you're drowning
And you're struggling to save your own life.

Do you even know how it felt like
When the blade drew blood on my own skin
What kind of satisfaction it felt
Knowing that I was hurting?

Is it that funny?
That I had put bandages on my wounds
Because I was embarassed
To show deep inside how it hurts?

Is what I did that funny?
That you laughed so hard
You almost can't catch your breath
And it even made you tear up?

I also felt that
I also can't breathe that night
And it's because I was crying
But I was gritting my teeth instead of a grin.

Is it funny,
To have these monsters inside your head
Whispering how no one loves and cares about me
And I deserve all this pain and I should die?

Is it funny,
When I finally gave in to my demons
And searched for that new blade my mother made me buy because I lost the old one?

Is it funny,
That I was so drained
From giving all the love that I have
To someone who would never see my worth?

Is it funny,
When I finally had the courage to cut my own skin
And the stinging sensation I started to feel
And I heard my demons cheer?

Is it funny,
When they whispered "cut it deeper!
You deserve to die
Because nobody loves you!"?

Will it make you even more happy,
If I'll cut it deeper next time
And you'll see me on the floor of my room
Blood pooled around me?

I'd like to hear you laugh at me again
But I know
That I won't be breathing and feeling anymore
When that next time comes.