I can't count on my two hands how many suicide notes I've written.
Some of them were **** near perfect; yet,
They seemed so angry.
Somehow even on my mental death bed,
I was still rewriting this note as some sort of apology to my family and friend.
Some sort of apology I wish someone would've given to me.
The sort of apology that you don't ever second guess. I had to get it right.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
I can't count on my two hands how many suicide notes I've written.
Some of them were **** near perfect; yet,
They seemed so angry.
Somehow even on my mental death bed,
I was still rewriting this note as some sort of apology to my family and friend.
Some sort of apology I wish someone would've given to me.
The sort of apology that you don't ever second guess. I had to get it right.
