I wish I could write something beautiful,
But the only words I can manage
Are ‘drowning’ and ‘suffocating’,
And we all know there’s no beauty in death.

My body is a fresh canvas just waiting to be filled,
But I have filled it in the wrong way --
Ruining it with cuts, scratches, and burns;
Nothing beautiful or something to be shown off.

In my drawer is a piece of paper,
But I have never written on it.
I am waiting for the day my courage is high,
And I finally need it to write my suicide note.

The life I live isn’t a bad one,
But my past still haunts me.
No amount of faith will diminish the feelings --
The sadness, guilt, anger.

I’ve lived on a roller coaster ride,
But everything comes to an end.
This one will crash and burn
And never be heard of again.

This poem isn’t meant to be beautiful,
But it is supposed to make you think.
Tonight might be the night
I remove the blank paper from the drawer.