Oh little daisy
One day
difficulties may faced
difficulties that may lose your hope
difficulties that may break your heart

But little daisy
please do remember
Your Smile, your laugh and your mind
is the hope of many

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

What if
they are
trying too

Why don't you speak to us?
What do you feel?

~I feel nothing. I do not know what to think first. Can I have some time to think?

No. Why don't you listen to us.
Stop thinking.
Talk to us.

~I --

No. Just listen to us.
Don't do that. Stop thinking.

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

What if
there were
no voice left to speak