Walking through the halls with dull eyes
Dull eyes that’s watching a dull life
Full of nothing
If I had a dollar for every time someone would ask me
“Are you okay?”
I’d be rich
Because the amount of times that I’m seen walking through that corridor
In a haze
I can’t comprehend the world around me and I don’t want to
I’m just a ticking time bomb until I finally snap and throw myself off of the building
The world is so loud I can’t hear my own thoughts
And sometimes that’s a good thing
Then I can’t hear the ghost in my mind pushing me towards the edge
But then I can’t hear the voice that’s trying to pull me away
It’s quieter than the other voice
But it wants to be heard through a world of noise
And then when reality snaps me out of my thoughts
When someone asks
“Are you okay?”

But all that makes me think at first
Does someone actually care?
Is there a light that can save me?
Should I reach out
But then people will think I’m an attention seeker
When I reach out for help I’m not looking for you to pay attention to me
I’m looking for help
I’m looking for someone to help me get better
I’m looking for a shoulder to cry on when times get tough
But all I could say
All my mouth that’s weak from screaming to myself of how horrible I am
All it could say was
“I’m fine, I’m just tired,”

Like a liar
I am tired
Tired of the world
Tired of the worlds *******
Tired of living
Can’t anyone realise how damming of a word “fine,” is?
Because I’m never fine
I’m never even okay
There’s still always that voice in the back of my mind
Yelling at me to stay in my pit of depression
I’m not okay
I’m not fine
I’m not tired
I’m suffering
And scared
They say that every 40 seconds someone kills myself
So in 40 seconds I might be dead
Or I might be stuck waiting
Waiting for that time
Every 40 seconds
That means over 800000 commit suicide every year
And that’s a statistic
That’s all it is
If I **** myself
I’ll become another statistic
Another number in the worlds system of math
But math was always confusing to me
I’d get tangled up in the equations until I couldn’t get out
Your stuck in that statistic so no one will notice you besides the people that you knew
It won’t change the worlds suffering
The clock is still ticking

Sometimes I feel like the world is caving in onto me
It’s all collapsing
I’m banging my head on the wall not because I’ve gone mad
But because I strive to feel something besides emptiness
I’m screaming out not because I’m scared that someone’s about to **** me and I need help
It’s because I need to hear something and I need to hear myself talk
How much noise do I have to make to be noticed
When your suicidal
You feel like you can’t do anything right
You can’t even reach out for help right
I had to have my mother find out
Imagine that
You open up my box of secrets to find blood stained tissues and blades
Imagine a mother to realise that her baby girl has been going through so much but too scared to tell anyone to avoid the confrontation if everyone you know
“Why would you do that?”

Saying that I’m fine through my teeth
Faking a smile for so long until my own face hurts
Blind from faking a light in my eyes to pretend they have some sort of life in them
This is how I have to fight my inner demons
Because I’m too scared to get help now
So I’m waiting for someone to notice
I’ve said I’ve stopped cutting myself
But a week ago I drew the blade across my skin again
This is a sign of weakness
And a sign of my own battle
The scars that will be embedded onto my skin forever now will haunt me
As a demon that reminds me of my suffering
And as a reminder to be strong
A reminder that this isn’t just weakness
That it hasn’t been my 40 seconds yet
That I’m still not a statistic
That I still have a smile somewhere
I still have some light in my eyes
That I am fighting with every fist and weapon I can gather
Because sometimes to stay alive that’s what you’ve got to do
Suffer to live
In still fighting with whatever I can
I’m using my voice because it’s all I’ve got left because everywhere else is numb from it all

I’ve planned my suicide
Several times
4 times
To be exact
Whether it be with a blade
Pills
Rope
Or just jump off my building
I’ll become that statistic I dread of
If I’m going to die it’s better to do it in silence
People that die daily die in silence
Because they’re too weak to talk anymore
They’re talked all their life
All of their words have been used up
This is saying it
This is speaking
Louder than the screaming voice in my head
Hoping that someone can take this and help themselves so they don’t become another statistic
So they can do what they want to do to be happy
Hoping that I can listen to myself
That I’m not fine
And that that’s okay