She wept
And wept
Then slept--
   She just wanted to rest.

She cut
And drank
Then jumped--
   Can't say 'twasn't the best.

I'm a little lonely
Just a little bit sad
A slit on my wrist
      won't be that bad.

Or maybe two--
       'Cause I am brave
Or three--
       Who's there to save?

Now, the fourth--
A bit too deep
Then the fifth--
Eternal sleep

Maybe if I die I would be loved,
Or maybe if I die no one would sob

Maybe if I die I can have my life renewed,
Or maybe I can't, perhaps this is how it should

Why won't I just die that this may end?
I may not be broken, but I'm tired to bend.

Why didn't I just die when I was in my mother's womb;
Rather face reality and to society succumb?

Just let me engage in my demise,
I can't play this game, I have lost the dice.

Surely if I die there'd be no more oceans to dive,
And if and only of I die I would know that I was alive.

I can only trace the contour of your face
From this portrait of you I see
I counted the hundred thousand and one ways
But you just can't be one step closer to me.

I can only imagine the day-old perfume -
    Its scent lingering in my nose -
On your navy blue shirt you left in the room --
Quickly on the couch you slouched then shortly dozed.

I can only envisage you munching chips;
Your eyes as they squint when you smile;
When you sigh - the small partition on your lips --
    Why do you have to be away nineteen miles?

You listen to me with your eyes
And I hear you when you write
When I perpend on my demise --
    "Do not heed, they are all lies."

And at night when I gaze at the skies - starless;
When I see no rainbow after the rain;
I tell you I can't be any fearless
Even the blue skies can't take away the pain.

But you're a firefly inside the darkest cave
An oasis in a wasteland --
And in my solitude you'll say,
"Dude, I am just a text away."

I am not a poet,
But I can rhyme
My thoughts are read,
    not heard
        and I write.

I wish that like a poet,
    I may drown my emotions
        in words like an ocean.

I'll throw my ship's anchor
    to the bottom
        along with my heart.

But I am not a poet,
Rather a mere sad lad
And the only thing I see
    to be finally free
        from self-abasement ensnaring me
            is to drown it, not in words,
                but in an ocean of blood.