Suicide, my killer.
Anorexia, my friend.
Razors and knifes, a tool to cut my wrist.
Pens, they smear, I hate them. Paper, once you write on paper it’s official.
I have things holding me down, life is depressing.
Yes, I smile and laugh, it never lasts.
I’m sorry grandma.
I’m sorry mom.
Apologizes are forgiven, but it happens over and over and they say sorry. You keep forgiving.
I’m tired of living, it’s hard.