I know one day I will love and feel heartbreak. But today, I decide to live. A day of true happiness. One more day to enjoy my youth with all its stereotypes and flaws. Another day to look forward in anticipation of the future instead of fear. Because I started caring years ago, I don't have to care now. Today.
A poem that probably has flawed logic, but I'll fix that tomorrow. If you have a complaint just leave a comment.
You watch as the blood from my wrist trickles onto your carpet. Paying no mind until it starts to stain I whisper, "I'm sorry; please help me" You roll your eyes and usher me out of your comforting, inviting home into the cold, desolate outside. Crimson tears form in my eyes raising my voice, "I need your help!" Instead, you give me an ignorant smile before you slam the door. An incomprehensible scream for acknowledgement exits my body Peering through the window, I see you cover my bloodstain with a rug. You would rather act as if it never existed than try to stop the blood or simply clean the stain. I'm now outside; being left to rot in the earth So instead I will stain your flower bed.
Here's the meaning I got from my poem. From personal experience, people to like to act like there's a problem with your depression or suicidal tendencies until it bleeds into their lives. Then, they act still barely acknowledge the problem and try to erase from their lives. They don't try to help us when we need it more than ever. It's about what we really need. We need someone to acknowledge that we have a problem and make strides to help that problem instead of acting as if nothing happened. The poem is saying that it's better for people to help those in pain than to be ignorant. If you don't, then it just ends up causing the stain to get bigger and more public.
A loving, Caring, little boy. Tossed around as if just a toy, with bruises hidden from their sight. The nervous manner caused by fright. who did not even know his plight. A laugh of pain through endless nights. this hatred building up to spite. attempts to cause a final fight though, knives don't usually bring us joy This time he told a clever ploy.