sitting under the rosy sun trying to escape the problems i cant outrun waiting for the days to pass people waiting for me to fall and crash and i'm getting pretty close underneath this sunlit rose
Oh god, I’m done. I can’t be a fighter nor can I be survivor anymore. I’m tired. I can no longer fight my own battles. I’m surrounded by darkness. I’m a prisoner of my own demons. Oh god. I’m done.
i started writing a poem about you the words were ropes wound tight around my hands but the ship was sinking. so i cut the ties the knife slipping and slicing cuts in my hands and i let go before i too became a wreck
I sit in my room and I cry They want me to say I am fine I sit in my room and I cut They want me to pretend I don't I sit in my room and attempt sucide They tell me its all for attention