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Oct 2015
I need someone to save me from myself.
Inside my soul there is nothing left.
Left all alone inside my head.
The voices whisper, they want me dead.
They tell me of the peace that comes in the end.
They say that I'll be with my friends.
The ones who passed on and crossed the divide.
Dragged away by death's unrelenting tide.
At first the voices sound like angels.
But Hell, it seems, always works that angle.
In truth, it's demons whispering in my ear.
Into my mind their words sear.
They tell me, take up your blade.
And fall upon it, let your life fade.
But another voice calls out.
Through the fog in my mind I hear it shout.
Life is like a precious stone.
It's hard, true, but beautiful too.
Your end will come in due time.
Do not rush to end your life.
At this I rise and begin to climb.
Out of the dark and towards the light.
After all I'm not one to submit.
And to just lie down and quit.
Is the coward's way out.
And I am no coward.
Nathan Wilson
Written by
Nathan Wilson  London
(London)   
471
   its gonna make sense, SPT and NV
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