As the poison ran through her veins She started to lose control Couldn't breathe Couldn't talk Couldn't move Couldn't think about anything else. The worst part is that she poisoned herself.
But she won't die, nor will she be okay. Because this poison is a different kind.
The poison is hopelessness Being let down Negative thinking This poison is her own creation Specific to her And the people she cares about can poison her just as easily as they can breathe.
Now she's sitting Motionless Speechless Thoughtless Breathless Because the poison has circulated And it's reached her heart.
But she won't die, nor will she be okay Because this poison is a different kind.
She physically feels sick She wants to die To **** herself To cut Drink Drown Hang Shoot Break And cry But she can't.
Because this poison has paralysed her.
This poinsion has taken away her will to breathe, not her breath itself. Her will to move, not her mobility itself. Her will to talk, not her speech itself. But it has replaced every thought with that of a blade Or a rope Or a gun Or a bottle Or a pill Or a lake Or a building
This poison has polluted we mind and mingled with her blood. The will to **** is a part of her now and there is nothing she can do to escape that.
Despite wanting to sleep for eternity six foot under This poison cannot **** her Only she can And she is close And willing And weak enough to attempt.
She cannot think of anything else And it's all her fault
She created this She started it all. If she had succeeded last year, she wouldn't be around to have created this poison.
So until she has hit rock bottom and has a chance at succeeding She will try to drown her demons Suffocate her demons Bleed herself dry of the poison Consume enough alcohol to alter the poison
But she won't die, nor will she be okay Because this is a different kind of poison And she is already dead inside.