I write about the end because I'm scared of the present.
I don't wanna think of tomorrow, the thoughts aren't pleasant.
Forget about sleeping,
I'll just wake up weeping.
Can't handle the thoughts seeping,
My demons are too busy reaping.
"HELP ME!" My voice is shaking,
My mind and body are both breaking.
I could die and nobody would hear.
My screams were silent, I didn't even have tears.

for every day you did not come back to me
i placed a piece of myself on a toy boat
sent it down the stream two miles from my apartment
(you’d know that if you’d returned).
some are telling me it’s a slow suicide
but that started much earlier than this
and the cold air numbs my hands
which stops the shaking
(for awhile).

-*k.c.