Hey you,
I've been thinking a lot recently
Wondering how this could have happened.
Five months and I'm still not over it.
But at least now I'm somewhat functional.

Did you know I used to feel the same way you did?
Wanting to end my life
By some self-inflicted act
The rush of a knife,
The avalanche of pills
Anything to make me feel okay
To run away.

Can I tell you the truth?
Sometimes I still do.
But I owe it to you
To get better.
And I know you would say
I owe it to myself as well.

So yes, I've written about you before.
About the sacredness of your memories
About how it breaks my heart to miss you.
But today, I just wanted to say thank you.
You've had a weighted hand in
Saving my life.
And you probably don't even know it.

So, in conclusion, sincerely and, as always, love
Me.

Oh, I am grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!
I set my throat against the air,
  I laugh at simple folk!

There’s little kind and little fair
  Is worth its weight in smoke
To me, that’s grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!

Lass, if to sleep you would repair
  As peaceful as you woke,
Best not besiege your lover there
  For just the words he spoke
To me, that’s grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!

I had a little Sorrow,
  Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
  And shut us all within;
And, “Little Sorrow, weep,” said I,
“And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
  And think how bad I’ve been!”

Alas for pious planning—
  It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
  The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep—
To save my soul I could not keep
  My graceless mind on it!

So up I got in anger,
  And took a book I had,

And put a ribbon on my hair
  To please a passing lad.

And, “One thing there’s no getting by—
I’ve been a wicked girl,” said I;
“But if I can’t be sorry, why,
  I might as well be glad!”

I dye my hair to be different
from the person I was an hour ago.
I didn't like her very much.

I take a picture or two
to memorialize my new baptism
of peroxide and pigmentation.

The chemical smell fades and the new
becomes commonplace
and I'm back to the person that I was.

And I'm fraying like the ends of my hair
and splitting and breaking and I'm her again:
just as ugly as ever.

Being alone is more
Than just staying at home
You could be walking down the street
Like you're trapped inside a dome

Everyone around you just stares
"Hello, doesn't anyone notice he's there?"
You could talk in the loudest voice
But nobody will look or seem to care

And most of the time
They'll think its a crime
To walk and walk...
But never talk

And at night when you're laying in bed
You'll remember it all and it plays in your head
Over and over it plays like a tape
Then your eyes close over like a dark drape