I’m hurting.
I’m hurting so **** much.
I wake up and think, “why didn’t I die in my sleep”.
God, just let me die.
Please just let me die.

Everything I do,
Is harm,
***, Drugs,
Everything else,
Just to numb the pain.
That’s screaming instead.

I know this isint a poem but I have no one or no where to put my feelings.

I leave the room,
Yet my body stays put.
My feet grounded,
While my mind flies away.

And it was then I realized.
That I’m not living.
I’m just walking around in a dead outer shell,
And a broken inner layer.

Why do they look at my demons,
Before they look at me.

And when the metal digs in,
I feel alive.
The the pain meets skin,
I fantasize about the oncoming pour.
The stream,
Drip... drip... drip.
If I had the courage,
The bath would be full of crimson.
But I am weak.