I hate that moment my anger turns to tears because I am thinking about all those years , the years that I was free, I could be me, the years my tears were from the little scrape on my knee or because no one wanted to play with me. The years where there wasn't years of sadness, because sadness was nothing but a word. It was in those years I didn't dream of killing myself , I never really cooks understand why others felt that way, but no one does until they become one of those dreamers. It was after those years that sadness was now something more than just a name, it had become all of me, it was now my routine , the dreams became the monster pushing you, the reason you wanted to jump off the bridge , the reason you've learned how to tie the perfect knot that could only be cut loose , dreams leaving you with no way out. Months go by sleepless nights, endless fights thinking you could trust someone out of sight