I’m always all alone, no one else seems to care,
I slit my wrists and yearn for more, death just seems more fare. I’m enclosed in darkened spaces, my hatred builds up inside. I’ve deteriorated my sanity, my life and my pride. I’m beaten unconcious, i’m a target for all of the lies.
My dishonesty is visible, my will i immensly despise. I spend my nights and days hiding behind false beliefs. I end up, bleeding from the wrists, suicide is what i seek. You can proudly call me demented and yet see nothing in me at all. You watch me slowly fail, I watch you greatly fall. I laugh at you when taunt murder even if its for yourself, you end up regreting what you’ve said, and say its someone else. I talk about hatred, and In life its what i feel. But when you feel you need to talk about me make sure what you say is real.
I know this person who likes to say things like killing herself and cutting and stuff, but if you read this…Dont’ talk about it until you’ve lived it because you have no idea what it feels ,, like I do.. what i say is true,, i’ve been so close to death is scary, well maybe not scary.. but just don’t think you know what your talking about .