I'm sorry. For the truth I'm to tell.
Please. This is hard for me to say.
But. I looked at my life tonight.
I couldn't find the goodness inside.

I carved fresh pain on my skin again.
Looking for some sort of release.
Searching for some sort of relief.
Not sure if life's worth fighting for.

You're probably disappointed in me.
Angry even.
I can't feel anything right now.
You could strike me and I'd take it.

I called the hotline tonight.
The waitlist was too long.
Instead of waiting, I relapsed.
Ashamed, I'd rather hide my despair.

I'm not sure if I can do this.
I hurt. Everywhere ripples with hurt.