Sometimes
I just want to die

not really,
but really

I'm just wanting an escape.
Wanting to leave this place
Leave the people
Leave the stress

I don't want any of it
Don't need anybody
just one
that's it

But I couldn't take him with me
He deserves better

I don't have any friends.
Don't get along with my parents.

I feel alone.
So just let me do it.
Let me go.

My wrists are already scarred.
My cheeks are already tear-streaked.
My will is already almost gone.
So just let me go.

Learn how to talk!
Type out a message
Erase it.
Chemically induced paranoia.
Marooned by burning bridges,
I fear starvation.

Just surviving life right now
minutes or hours at a time.
It's not pretty.
Poems don't lie.

Perhaps that's why
I can only gush feelings
in some rhyme or pentameter

Not really pentameter,
to much work and time.
This **** has no flow other than
how I think I'd speak it in my mind.

Can't call it slam.
It's just word *****
so I can read it over
and over and over.

Send it to a friend.
Narcissistic desire.
All positive reviews,
so it doesn't matter.

It's easier to remember the feeling this way. (I guess)
Jaded poems of a jaded mind.
My issues are simple
relapse, replay, rewind.

Chain smoking simply for the high,
Et Cetera, et cetera, along those same lines.
Got all this to live for
yet that **** still remains?

Are you ******* serious?
I thought I served my time!
Regressed back to a default state of mind.

I thought I was better than this,
control seemingly was mine.
Normally I'd meditate;
not in that house of horrors

I barely eat,
Not drinking water.
Nothing but making it worse.

Escape: all available options.
I joke about it.
Reminiscent of Lennon:
Help

Dark and shallow
Empty and cold
Now she's always alone
Because sorrow is all she knows.

Her spirit was broken
And her heart was stolen
The love she asks was never given
All because of a promise that was forgotten.

Her heart was shouting
Her soul is crying
Her lips are lying
But her tears are indicating.

But she finally gave up
She have nothing to look up
Like being stuck in the mud
The only choice is to stop.

Her chest is heavy
She wants to escape reality
For she is no longer happy
Pain she don't want to further carry.

Death is the only escape
From the mistake she create
She chose her own fate
Jump away from hate.

Silent and calm
Chills in her palm
She hears a sweat hum
Her path in after life began.

I'm starting to believe
That I don't have a choice,
Living in a world where I don't have a voice.
So I'll build up my defence;
Running away from a world
Where you know you'll end up alone.

Now I am going,
Imagining the biggest adventure unknown.
Wondering how to make it home to the clouds.
Now I am wanting to grow,
Trapped in a world that's so undecided and cold.

The world could be your playground,
Just listen to the child inside calling your name;
She's lost and so scared.
So let down your defences.
Stop running away; maybe disappear for a little while.
Just take your time to find the reasons.

Just give me time,
I'm the worst and deciding my choices.
Wondering if I can find a reason to carry on.
I feel like I don't belong here,
No longer wanting to stay trapped inside my own dark mind.

Now I will be going.

Depression has me by the neck
its poison numbs my entire body
trapping me in an ever-state of paralysis
I lay motionless as I'm forced to endure
this deep pain swelling inside of me

So many times I've listened to others
and their experiences with this darkness
Not knowing one day it would grow in me as well
Life made this happen
and maybe death is the cure

The more I resist or try to hide it
the more it festers and increases its intensity
So maybe I should just give in
and float in my own pool of sadness
until the dawn rises

i’m lost
my legs are tired
and the concrete looks like a trampoline
if you throw something hard at an even harder surface, the something does not bounce
it breaks
if i throw my body to the concrete that looks like a trampoline
my bones will shatter
but my soul will only bruise
and that annoys me

because i thought death was easy
it’s this life that’s hard
what happens when escaping life becomes so difficult that death disappears from sight
when i thought death was easy but there’s no more fight left in me
when did trying to die become so difficult?

they tell me i’m not alone
which i find to be pretty funny because when my thoughts are falling out of my head too quickly for me to catch i’ll look around
and all i see is fragmented thoughts splintered on the ground

you have commitments
appointments
social obligations that consist of lifting others up
you have a job
and friends
and school
and papers to write
i know it’s hard for you sometimes, too

i know i drag you down
you say you won’t entertain the thought that my existence is a show put on by lucifer’s angels because i’m just
dramatic
you say
my idleness is the reason why my brain is wasting away
i’m the reason i’m wasting away
if it’s all in my head,
will the pain get better as i get worse?

they tell me
i’m here
and they’ll miss me if i go but when i tell them i’ve been trying to leave for years
they tell me no
i’ve been trying to stay for years
i laugh

they tell me
there’s so much more to live for
smiles and hugs and really dumb jokes
art and literature and art and art and art
and art

one thing art has taught me?
everything dies
everything ends
and humanity’s soul takes a beating every time we try
to erase the existence they’ve worked so hard to create
we could be frail
and throw ourselves to the pavement
the headlines the next morning would read Another one Bites the Dust or something

it’s really hard to be positive when you don’t want to be
or remember how to be
when stats of suicide are so frequently reported you wonder if that’s what you’ll become, another statistic
“the percentage of suicides of queer, korean adoptee, catholic, females has now risen to 1% this is Fox News reporting”
or something

i’ve heard that.

when did trying to die become so difficult?

-rgp