I’m hanging by a thread,
Letting the wind push my body as it will.
For I have no control.
My body is tattered.
My soul is shattered,
And I wait for the day when
I can rid myself of this form.
I’m tired of looking at myself wishing I wasn’t;
I’m tired of searching for reasons just to live and not let life take me away,
But at the same time,
I am tired of the embarrassment
To simply just be me.
I cannot stand for another second
To hear the echoes of “friendly” voices calling out to me—
Telling about everything I am
As if I didn’t already know.
And making my self-esteem go from hate
To loathe.
Perhaps it’s time I just left;
Perhaps it’s time I did something right
Because no matter where I am emotionally,
Suicide is always pushing through the heart of my mind.
So, tell me what I need to hear instead of want.
Tell me very simply that I will never be enough.
I’m waiting with a fist in each hand—
Indecisive about whether or not I should stay calm,
Or whether I should end it here—
Ready to beat myself until breathing is no longer an option.
Make me suffer, or I will
Because I’m tired of waiting for you to follow through.
Throw me against the wall,
Stab me with your words,
Tear out my heart
While intertwining your eyes with mine.
Because I’m tired of looking for a fresh, new start.
The very definition of my name is “joke,”
Make me live up to it.
Make me remember not to forget,
That suicide has always been my one and only friend
Because the word “goodbye” becomes even more tempting more often than nights.
I just wish I could see the looks on your faces after too far over the edge you decide to finally push.
So, make up your mind because I’ve made up mine—
Whether or not you want me here or push me so far
That you cannot lend a hand to save me anymore.
For, I’m hanging by no more than a thread,
And I’m beyond saving so don’t waste your time.
You’re left with a very simple choice instead:
Whether to cut the last string on this noose that holds me above this abyss,
Or leave me for dead.