I'm screaming and waiting for someone to hear
But nobody listens, in this room full of people
Nobody cares, in this small, tiny world.
Most of all, Nobody wants to.
 
Looking at this dark storm is too much to bear
And I'm waiting for that crack of lightning 
Just to see if there's any such thing as light anymore
Because there's no air for any fire.
 
Searching for all these answers I can't reach
And I just don't know anything at all
Because I'm far too young to experience this
I mean, I'm only sixteen
 
I'm trying not to cry about how much I miss home
But I think back and remember the smiles
And how they're so far away now
Just pacing out of my reach
 
I don't even know how to word my feelings anymore
Just a scribble of jibberish on this keyboard
Waiting for the night to end so the torture can resume
Waiting for that final breath that'll never reach me
 
I'm just curled in this ball to find warmth
Because outside this dark room is much more black
The air is so thick with this sadness
I wish I could fall through and forget it all
 
I've lost control because I don't know what's real anymore
And these soft whispered words aren't reaching my mind
Any melody is far too fast for me to handle
This music haunts me to sleep.
 
Trying to restrain myself from this growing need
I've lost track of everything rational
Trying to return to the normal plane I'm supposed to be on
Nothing physical makes sense anymore.
 
I'm trying to leave my mind here, in this place
Something so familiar yet unrecognizable past this hurt
I can't stay here much longer before I fade away completely
I'm trying, I'm trying, just let me be.
 
I'm yearning for that comfortable feeling,
Like when it was warm and happy, no sadness or scars
Because this house isn't a home at all
And I think I'm going insane.

I'm calling and nobody seems to hear
nobody listens, in this room full of people
Nobody cares, in this small world.
and most of all, nobody ever wants to.

I died not so long ago
not with a blade, or a gun
I died from feeling.
Or rather, so much of it.
 
Maybe it's just a mental shut down.
Or a simple break away from all of this
because I feel so numb inside,
And everything looks bleak.
 
I died. And now all that's left is hollow eyes
I can feel a heart, beating through my chest
Such a small symbol.
it's the only thing that reminds me Im still technically living.
 
I wonder if there's a word for this
because depression.. Just doesn't fit.
Its not mortal death, my blood would disprove any theory.
It's.. The lack of a soul. Emotion.
 
Not saying I'm completely soulless, No.
But I'm overly far gone.
Most definitely withered away,
And I don't think I'll come back this time.
 
I don't feel human at all
Because humans, they can actually feel.
I died not too long ago,
And now I'm just a shell.

sitting here
staring at these boring beige walls
with someone staring back at me
as I try to put my thoughts into words
don't sound stupid
no desperation
no neediness
no attention
being analyzed is an interesting thing
because you can feel the ****
of knowledgable eyes in your brain
so your walls go up
stop staring at me
because help doesn't exist
when you don't want it
and there is no cure
for the monsters in my brain
tearing
ripping
clawing at my psyche
whispering
sweet nothings into my subconscious
bland, practiced words stream out of my mouth
bubbling over with the dull tone of indifference
boredom
and ultimately,
cringe-worthy sadness.
if only you could actually understand
that the monsters are my friends
their darkness inspires me
reminds me of the heaven
found six feet below my own heels
now I'm standing,
with a rehearsed smile on my mask
and a hollow 'thank you'
before I return to the beige walls

I want to be gone

I want to be six feet under

I want a bullet through my head

and pills in my blood

I want slashed wrists 

streaking the tile

and a chair tipped over

so I can hang like a decoration

I want suicide

and suicide wants me.

I feel like a zombie

Dead and gone

Too far out to even try to bring back

As if anyone would try, anyways.


I feel like nobody cares anymore

They don’t care if I’m here or out there

If I’m here or gone

If they don’t care, then why should I?


I want to be gone.

Gone seems so peaceful

Quiet

Nice.


Death is beautiful to me.
I’ve thought about it in a romantic way since I was seven years old.
But hey, I’m just a ******.

I’m just a statistic.

That’s what everyone tells me

Nothing more than a name on a screen,

Or a number on a board.


Nothing.

More.
Ever.
I feel worthless.


Maybe I should help myself escape into that mysterious abyss

Noose, blades, pills galore.

It’s romantic.

Then ill really be a zombie.