This poem is a suicide note.
Tonight, this pitiful life is finally coming to an end. I,
have finally accepted that much.
No longer suspended in a lost, hopeless state:
Not quite asleep.
Not quite awake.

Oh, I've been trapped for too long.
Wrapped up in you.
A translucent bubble wrap.

My voice has given out by now,
Absorbed into this shell.
Thrown back in my face.
No.

I feel like a marionette,
Losing control over what I do
And yet,
Despite my best efforts,
I'm just tangled.

Up
Around
Over
Through

So much so,
There's a knot so tight,
The only way out is to
Cut
Right
Through.

There is simply nowhere else to turn.
Oh, but I tried

I ran.
I hid.
I fought.
I cried.
Bled.
Froze.
Got burned.

And you can say it'll get easier.
It's easy for you.
But I lost my drive to please
Everyone around me.

And I hate lying here,
On the ground.
In it.
In this grave that I dug.

I'm scared,
But only of what I might become.

So, I'm gonna cut right through
the ties from the lies I've been living in.
No.
Not living.
More like spending time lost in the darkness
Of a dead, dead end.

But Death will be attending his own funeral.

Tonight,
I'm gonna restart.
Gonna be brand new.
No.
Better than brand new.
Better than the best, and yes,
That means leaving you behind.

You are the weight of the world on my shoulders.

If I can't get you off my mind,
Then how will I be set free?

I might be on a leash,
But you don't get
the choice to let go or not.

You don't get
To hide me behind a curtain
And, prop her up on a pedestal.

You shouldn't have knocked me off in the first place.

I'm gonna crawl away to a brand new place.
Where I'm loved
And live properly.

After what I went through,
You should have known.
Something had to give.

So,

I'm giving up on this life I planned with you.
I'm moving into cloud nine.

But I'm not leaving.
No.
I'll be weaving my way through
your conscience.
Leaving a trail of words so sharp,
They could cut
Clean
Through.

All the while,
I'll be moving on.

I am the rising sun
Here to **** the "me" I was
When I was, with you.
Your Envious Moon.

My heartstrings may be tangled,
And tearing,
Mangling my innards.
But I will not let myself be hanged.

Tonight,
I'm taking your picture off the shelf,
Waving good bye to my old self,
And praying I have the strength
To make it home.