My suicide is something I've dreamed of for a while.
My suicide scares me because I do not know what is after.
My suicide is something I have attempted many times but failed.
My suicide is going to be a relief.
My suicide is selfish.
My suicide is going to be by blade to my wrist.
My suicide is a thought that soothes me.
My suicide is going to be hard for the people around me.
My suicide will eventually be forgotten.
My suicide seems blissful but horrible at the same time.









I hope my suicide is soon.

My feelings?
They are gone.
For you anyway

I still love you,
I just don’t think you love me.

So here I am,
Writing how I feel.
But you dont give a ****.
No.

You only care for your blackened heart.
My pink one is nothing to you,
Am I right?

I am aware
of all things present,
the pinch behind my eyes
the pressure in my nose
my deep, soft,
too loud–heavy–quiet breathing
(How?)
Give me back my bones
Give me back my sleep,
my dreams.
Too close, too much, not enough:
I am endlessly ending

Cry

Please let me sleep–end–cry–
somethinganythingplease