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.