November Rains

November Rains

You think you have people.
And maybe you do.
But the facts are simple,
Even if the reality isn't.
They don't know how,
Couldn't possibly understand
What you're going through.
Maybe it's because you
Can't make yourself say it.
Can't give up that power,
Allow yourself to be vulnerable.
Because you're weak.
Your own brain is telling you
That you're better off dead,
And you can't even tell your people.
You can't even look them in the eyes
And offer any form of honesty.
Your entire life is a lie
And the autopilot has gone off course.
Because you don't know
Who you are anymore.
You seek out help,
Get medication,
And yet somehow,
Your brain wins again.
Tells you to stop.
Stop seeing the doctor.
Stop taking the medicine.
Stop seeing your friends.
Stop being a person.
Because you're worthless.
The scars on your thighs agree,
And your fingers are twitching
Reaching for a fresh razor blade.
And you're completely alone.
You're angry because they stopped,
Stopped trying, just like you.
You're sad because you pushed them away,
Even though they tried,
And you continued to deny.
You can't even think about them.
Because you think they don't care,
Wouldn't and couldn't possibly.
If you died.
An empty church.
If you survived.
An empty hospital room.
Either way you're alone.
Because you can't open your mouth
And just say something.