I’m writing this poem for a couple reasons, once and foremost, suicide. No, I’m not here to tell you that you’re beautiful or perfect the way you are. You’re only as perfect as you make yourself. If you think that you are the most ugly and disgusting thing in the world, then you’re going to be. If you think that you have so many imperfections that you can never be perfect, then you never will be. Once you focus on the bad things they are all you think about, and the bad things start to take over, and you feel like you can’t get away from said bad things. The truth is that it is almost impossible to get away from them. You may need help, you may not. But either way it *****. It takes you forever to get back to the person that you used to be. But maybe you don’t want to go back to that person. And I can tell you now, it’s up to you. But if you want to, you have to work for it to get back the things that made you who you were, the possessions, the people, and the feelings. Then let go, let go of all that’s holding you back.

The cruel words you’re spiting at me make me wince and wonder what I’ve done wrong. Like poison it sinks into my veins, burning and decomposing as it goes. My tears start to fall like rain, you start up again, word harsh words coming. Ugly, useless, fat, stupid. They whip me as they sling out of your mouth. You’re finally done and you yell at me to get out of your sight. I let my leaded feet take me to my barren room. Nothing significant, just white. Like an insane asylum cell. I grab my blanket off the floor and wrap myself in it and just let the tears flow. I curl up, screaming my heart out. It all goes blank. Just lying there, Quiet, finally I open my eyes and look at the door and slowly walk to my bathroom, I turn on the hot water. I limply shed each article of clothing and walk sluggishly to the awaiting bath tub. I fall into it and just sit. Thinking of everything that has happened. I stare down at the secluded razor at the corner of my tub. I gaze at it longingly and then grab it. I tare in to the skin of my left arm. I watch as the blood flows freely. I laugh at the thought of you finding my lifeless body.