and you will
find me lying
on the floor,
looking happy for
the first time,
even though,
i will be in
hell,
where i truly belong.

The world melts
My senses combust
My fingertips tingle

The world sways
I sway
I collapse

I feel numb
Disoriented
Everything goes dark...

A light.
A siren.
A vision of faceless faces.

I am alive.

The smell of disinfectant.
The idle chatter of two nurses.
A buzzing in my ear.

I am alive.

"Be happy." They say.
I can't.
"At least pretend to be."
Why?
"Because no one likes a sad person."
*Oh

To bring us together,
But that has to stop.
We can't wait
Until people have died
To unite
Please, join me
If you find a poem
Saying the person will commit suicide,
Try and help
For Andy
(Even though he's not dead)

I want to write a
beautiful poem
to tell you
I'm going to
**** myself.

But there are
No words
beautiful enough
to describe to you
the way
I'm about to die.

Society: You're so ugly
Girl: But I'm happy
Society: You're too fat
Girl: But I'm happy
Society; You're not pretty enough
Girl: But I'm hap-
Society: Stop trying nobody likes you
Girl: But I'm h-
Society: Nobody cares about you
Girl: But-
Society: Go away why are you talking to me? Loser
Society: Wait where did you go?
Society: Come back!
Society: Why would she **** herself?
Society: She was so pretty and nice and everybody liked her why would she go?!
Society: We will miss you

can you ***** my finger and measure the dopamine in my veins? collect my teardrops and tell me if i'm going to be okay? can you light up the darkness with magical pills?
decide if i'm too sad to go to school?
can you tell me if i'm just being melodramatic? measure my blood pressure, maybe that will work. write me a prescription for 5 Happy Days in a row, and 3 hugs from Someone I Love.

doctor, doctor
i'm not feeling well today
doctor, doctor
i don't know if i should stay

sadness isn't a sickness, but it's infected my mind. can you write me some antibiotics to get them out in time?

sadness isn't sickness, but i think i might've caught something from doing a little too much of Having No Friends. don't you know how much i've been Laying In Bed?
sadness isn't sickness, but i think i'm coming down

doctor, doctor
i've got a severe case of the I Don't Want To Lives
can you write me a prescription?
make it go away?

doctor, doctor
you've let me down this time
doctor, doctor
i'm not in my prime

can you tell that i'm not healthy?
'cause i don't think you can
oh, sadness isn't sickness,
but it's fatal,
if all goes according to plan

It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
but you.
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
Many times,
they succeed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
But,
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.