This is not a poem.
It's more of a lashing of words
To remind myself that I'm alive.
Let the pain paint my flesh
A vibrant pink,
Filled with vitality.

This is not a poem,
But it's written for the sole purpose to remind everyone,
I'm human.
I make mistakes; I'm not perfect.
I'm not a robot,
I need my rests.

I just HAVE to reiterate:
This is not a poem.
I just had to bring out feelings and words
I can never let out
Because I have to "save my face"
And I am "strong".
But I'm truly sick and tired
Of living this life without having any reason
Or anything to hold dear to.
Self destruction isn't bad,
When it keeps you alive.

This is not a poem.
But just so to let you know,
The blanket that's wrapped around me
Is so thick and heavy
My shoulders can't bear it's weight anymore.
Even the bed, creaked due to the immense pressure.

No, this is not a poem.
I don't quite know what I'm feeling.
But I know something:
I can't live like this forever,
And I need someone to realize that.

(C.C)