I told you i wanted to die.
As i laid down and cried,
but all you noticed was the smell of my alcohol breath.
You should have noticed.
You thought  it would be better for my sister to go yes
that would be best
right?
Because she has more of a fight
to survive
not me.
Not even as i lay down and for my death i plea
but should i go to the hospital?
No need.
Even when the days go by i never speak.
I get too much or not enough sleep.
But you think its not because of the dreams..
But everything is not as it seems.
I'm falling apart and breaking my stitching at the seams.
I can't ask for help
and you will never look
because you think i'm an open book...
Not one with pages torn and sadness filled words like "i can't"
because i'm insignificant.