i'm sorry that those demons
worked their way out of your head
to control your hands and fingers
i know it wasn't really you
while you were making that noose
i know it wasn't really you
while you counted those pills
making sure you took many
i know it wasn't you at all
when you sliced your pretty wrists
it was you at the hospital
that day you told me you were so sad
it was you that day in my room
when i held you and let you cry
i'm sorry that those demons
traveled to your heart
those demons blocked your eardrums
they wouldn't let you listen
when i told you i was here for you
they sewed your lips tight
you couldn't cry for help
i'm sorry that i stain this poem
with my tears
i hope you will reach out your grave
and sleep with it
six feet under the stars.