I want your crimson—
envelop,
cling,
embody—

Like fractals to rub my hands
       over.

Kindling aplenty
as the snows set in.

I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                  I­̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶          I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶ r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
   I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶                                    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
         I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­                             I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶  r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶  l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶  e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶         ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                 I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶   r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶  d̶e̶r̶
          


                                    ­               ᵤntᵢl my
lₑgs bᵣₑₐk

          bₑfₒᵣₑ my ₑyₑs clₒsₑ

                                                      
                                                                ­                      blₑₑdᵢng nₒsₑ

            until
             I break myself
                 for trying my hardest

You think I romanticise suicide?
That I can find glory in death?

You're wrong.

I don't hope for romance, there is no romance in laying six feet deep.

Being defeated by your own mind holds no glory, there is no pride in suicide.

You say...
Get over it.
You can fight this.
It's only in your mind.

And you're right.

It's only im my mind so stop telling me how I feel.

So shut up.

I know it's weak.
Selfish... but it is my choice.
I know you think it's a choice to be happy.
If it was did you really think I would choose this?

sadness
pain
depression

Suicide

Trying to write a goodbye.
Wondering about the music for my funeral.

Suicide

I'm always scared but fighting.
I am weak but never giving up.
Never giving in.

I don't think this is fun.
This is suicide your talking about.
No romance.

Empty of joy and glory.
Suicide.
A way out.