Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
David Bachman Jan 2020
Can’t think of a better way to go out than by my own hand
Can’t let these people grab my clout hope you understand

They claim to know me whats your problem why you showing off
I’m dead
Layed up in bed
Overdose replaying in my head

Dreamt it up one night woke up falling off the end off a knife
Snorted and aborted my life
It’s what I asked for, no more strife
No more life
Aint nobody gonna save me this time

And I been going thru it but I’m happy to say I’m through it
Tried too many times and they said please don’t do it
Suicide been on my mental like a best friend moved in my brain a rental
I don’t ask for your pity this ain’t that sentimental

I promise you can find happiness from within
I found it thru influence you don’t gotta sin
Smoked out the bowl and now I feel whole t minis two hours I’ll feel like the bowl
Empty
David Bachman Mar 2019
I remember when I was happy
That seemed so long ago now I don't know what the hell is happening
This is crazy; use to watch shows in my room and be lazy
But it's different now
Everybody has used me now I put on a frown
I just wanna sleep
Never wake up, just wanna count sheep
These thoughts they run deep
Enter my head you'll be gone
You'll be stuck 'till dawn
How 'bout you step into my shoes, witness and feel the things I've been through
Bet you couldn't
Bet you wouldn't
I've wanted to end my life; just to end the ******* strife
All this agony and pain I wish it was slain
No I ain't stupid I'm just going the motions
Lay me to rest, bury me in the ocean.
I was in a dark place when I wrote this. Most of my work comes from my bleeding heart. Hope you understand (:
David Bachman Mar 2019
Of course he’s dead
All good things must come to an end
But he wasn’t good
Father hates him said I too should
He’s the ******* child
And so am I
Go out in public and claims he’s fine
I don't miss him
He was doomed from the start
Perfected the “victim” as an art
And now he’s dead
Energy cannot die so he’s still alive
Gone in the wind along with the lies
Hammer the nails on the coffin
Give him the finest dirt, give him the softest
Hang the jersey up or tuck in the shelf
This is the death of my old self.

— The End —