Nightmares that chase my demons
are the kind I like to dream,
when I curl up in bed
sweating and crying,
gasping for hope and dying.

I dream of killing myself
this would be a sweet rest,
tired of fighting
why my heart wants to die
when my mind doesn't allow it...

That sweat moment I dream of
when the blade splits my arteries,
or the bullet reaches the ceiling
carrying with it my sadness.