Feb 2014
7:30pm - I am crying. Wars are raging. Demons are coming. My soul is dying.
8:30pm - Try to resist a knife that sits. Pick up the phone, just so alone. Try to resist the urge that pursists.
9:30pm - Urges pursist, I finally cave in. Marks on my skin, wage a war thats within. Spirits are fighting, demons are crying. A soul is dying. Tempers are rising.
10:30pm - My heart is breaking. My temper is flaring. My thoughts are rising. A God I'm denying. I'm lost, chained, and bound. I'm tired of fighting.
11:30pm - Alone in night, along in day. My friends seem to walk away. Still I am trying. Is there any reason to living?
12:30am - Sleeping comes naught to that who is crying. A God who has ceased caring. Is there any life worth giving?
1:30am - Trying to write to someone so dear, but words alas, won't come near. I cry out for help, hoping a God will hear. Hoping someone might just be there.
2:30am - I walk to the garage, a shotgun awaits. I pick up the tool, to send me to my death. I look for the bullets, none can I find. I go to the house, to look for a knife.
3:30am - I pick up a knife, to hold to my neck. I think back on the past nine years of my life. The rediculing, the name calling, the moving, the drinking, the hell that's broke loss must come to an end.
I think of a friend. Will she miss me, I wonder. I think to a dance that had not long past. A friend... I think naught, an older sister. I remember the song that she played for my ears.
I remember my mentor, the one who discovered. I remember her efforts to tell me they cared. I remembered her words that told me she would always be there.
I thought yet again to a friend who long past. I thought to her last words to my ear. "You're loved, don't forget it. Even if I'm not here."
I thought to years long past. When I layed in the grass, my brothers at hand. I told them I was running. His response, "No, don't go. I love you to much for that. I need you to pick on."
3:45am - I put down my knife. I go to my room. I continue to cry. I may not be happy, but my life I must live. My demons then flee, but my chains still bind me. An angel protects me, of this I am sure. To sleep I must drift, I'll wake in the morn.
8:30pm - Try to resist a knife that sits. Pick up the phone, just so alone. Try to resist the urge that pursists.
9:30pm - Urges pursist, I finally cave in. Marks on my skin, wage a war thats within. Spirits are fighting, demons are crying. A soul is dying. Tempers are rising.
10:30pm - My heart is breaking. My temper is flaring. My thoughts are rising. A God I'm denying. I'm lost, chained, and bound. I'm tired of fighting.
11:30pm - Alone in night, along in day. My friends seem to walk away. Still I am trying. Is there any reason to living?
12:30am - Sleeping comes naught to that who is crying. A God who has ceased caring. Is there any life worth giving?
1:30am - Trying to write to someone so dear, but words alas, won't come near. I cry out for help, hoping a God will hear. Hoping someone might just be there.
2:30am - I walk to the garage, a shotgun awaits. I pick up the tool, to send me to my death. I look for the bullets, none can I find. I go to the house, to look for a knife.
3:30am - I pick up a knife, to hold to my neck. I think back on the past nine years of my life. The rediculing, the name calling, the moving, the drinking, the hell that's broke loss must come to an end.
I think of a friend. Will she miss me, I wonder. I think to a dance that had not long past. A friend... I think naught, an older sister. I remember the song that she played for my ears.
I remember my mentor, the one who discovered. I remember her efforts to tell me they cared. I remembered her words that told me she would always be there.
I thought yet again to a friend who long past. I thought to her last words to my ear. "You're loved, don't forget it. Even if I'm not here."
I thought to years long past. When I layed in the grass, my brothers at hand. I told them I was running. His response, "No, don't go. I love you to much for that. I need you to pick on."
3:45am - I put down my knife. I go to my room. I continue to cry. I may not be happy, but my life I must live. My demons then flee, but my chains still bind me. An angel protects me, of this I am sure. To sleep I must drift, I'll wake in the morn.
(United States)
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