I lay flat on my bed.
The silence is broken only by doors slamming a world away.
My eyes, glazed over towards the window.
Its three in the afternoon,
Yet, it feels like nighttime.
Tomorrow, I have another appointment
Maybe this time I will get help
Maybe this time I’ll kill myself
It’s hard to keep pushing forward
And I’m tired.
I don’t know what to do.
Everyone tells me that living is joyous
But for me, those moments are too few and far between.