Standing at the top of the clock tower
with bells echoing through my chest
and wind ringing in my ears,
It feels as if the whole world is within reach.

**They have nets under all the bridges. How many bodies have they caught? So many abused by their own broken souls.

I don't really want to die, I don't think
I like chocolate too much
To never taste it on my lips again, to never again watch someone smile,
Never again to feel my vocal cords rub against each other as I sing-
I don't know if I could really do away with those things.
I almost can't stand the thought of you and sis crying alone together in black, after all the time I've spent holding you two up when dad died,
But then I remember.
If I'm dead, it isn't going to matter to me. I won't have to care about you.
I won't feel a thing.
Only the living have to regret the dead.
People always tell me that life is worth it, but is it really? A bubble in the middle of nowhere where people shoot each other and kiss each other, and despite how grand it feels, it never means anything.
I'm pointlessly running step after step on a timeline to nothing. My legs are burning, my lungs are crying, so why shouldn't I just stop?
And god, it is tempting.
You know the moment when someone's grandma's irreplaceable glass vase first hits the ground?
It leaves you wincing, almost as if every crack that splinters its surface is being carved across your skin,
as if every tinkling shard can make your teeth chatter?
That is what I feel inside, every day. There is no word for it other than broken. My soul is shattered.
Never feel that again, never have to chase all those thoughts.
All those thoughts, I wish I could forget them.
Apparently, I hate myself? And I'm cruel to myself? I'd always just thought that this is what it was to be human.
To control every aspect of yourself- how you speak, how you sneeze, how you smile-
To have an average grade make you feel like a failure, because you could have put more in, and you're a worthless procrastinator, how dare you take a few minutes to write a poem when you have the tasks of others to attend to?
I believe with every bit of myself that other people matter more than me, but you can't live like that.
It's not that I want to hurt you, mom, sis, it's that I'm finally going to do something for myself instead.
I've enjoyed it while it lasted, but I think I'm done. I need to tap out, cancel my subscription. There's nothing left I want from life that death doesn't promise louder.

And then I remember chocolate and change my mind.

I am not going to **** myself
I am not going to **** myself
There is no pain
I'm okay
I am not going to **** myself
*Please don't let me **** myself

You say this is wrong.
You taught me that this is a sin.
"This isn't what He wants." You say.
Well why is that?
What is so despicable?
I need answers because this, in my eyes, is absolutely amazing and beautiful.
My days are filled with joy.
My life has become so much brighter.
My future is not as terrifying.

So you answer me...

How is love so wrong?

I understand the appeal
Right around now I could almost go for it

After dad died, we swore we would never drink or do drugs or anything like that
We didn't get the people who did, but I understand now
How the same day-after-day can drive you crazy
How I don't want to know myself right now
Hell, I want to lose every piece of who I am, I don't want to be aware or in control
I want to be gone

Let go

I understand the lengths people will go to run away from this world
But I cannot succumb
No, instead I will paint with all the buckets of misery and infinity I can find and turn my world into rainbows
As far as my eyes can reach, poetry as often as my lips can speak
I will survive

In closing, what I've really been trying to say is just this message to myself:
*Please stop telling me I want to die

I throw my fist to the sky
Air gripped between my fingers with pride

And then I see them,
The rivulets of soap coursing down my wrist

The milky white tears tracing over my veins
Was I ever even here to begin with?

It only takes moments for the water to wash me all away

My soul is shaking
And though terrified,
Of how every moment I feel my bones rub against my back

I am elated
The tears rush over my hollowed cheeks, blurring the sun in my eyes
They catch my breath and sweep it back to my mouth, back where it belongs

Yes, I'm terrified of what I've become
But after traversing land after land of darkness, I can finally say

I really and truly do not want to die.

Does she know?* I ask.
I can't hide the wicked smirk on my face,
As I see the panic spark in your eyes.
Does she know about the flowers you wove through my hair?
Does she know about the words you wrote on my skin,
Everlasting, never fading, cannot be taken back?
Does she know about the breaths of life in the dead of night?
Does she know about the desperate kisses we shared when we were all alone?
Does she know about the tears you shed over the death of my love?
Does she know about the sins you committed that forced me to run?
Does she know, darling? Do you think she'd stay?

Can you live with the thought of her leaving, because I saw who you truly are?