It’s 3am
My head is busy
I can’t breathe
I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.


I grab the kitchen scissors
Little cuts decorates my wrist
shame wraps around me like a heavy blanket suffocating me
Forgive me father, I am just blue all the time
I don’t want to be here but i also don’t want to go to hell.

I watch the world through blurred lens
It seems like everyone got their life together
I let out a deep sigh that no one can understand
I joke with my friends that I might not make it past 21
I am drowning and this time I don’t want the oxygen mask.