I was thinking about killing myself.....
I was thinking about killing myself one day and I was like;
What would they say?
What if I had a sibiling?
What if like she or he walked in and saw me dead?
What would they think?
Would they be angry or would it drive them insane?
What would be my effect on the world?
What would death be like would it be a peaceful cold embrace, that one would share with a statue, or would it be the most amazing part of living?
She held onto the razor like a holy icon, and begged that God could forgive all the roads in her arms, 'cos this is what she must have thought.
So she sat there and prayed with the knife in her skin, hoping, wishing, that God will one day forgive, these horizontal lines.
"Oh the cat got me again," she would say so we never got to see the turmoil that resided inside her, inside that little jail cell, with that heart that pounds so relentlessly, so unwavering so painful each beat is, every single one going after the other with that rhythm, that annoying rhythm, she wants it all to end!
So this time she puts them in as verticals, and she falls on her knees hoping that God sees this as a sacrifice not an "I quit"
Oh if God saw her he turned his back her, so she lay in the amounting puddle of dark red liquid, slow gasp escaped as pain erupted her heart kept fighting, she curled up waiting for the rhythm to stop.
What would they say when they would find her?!
She possibly should have left a note, a requiem for her death, maybe she should have told somebody about this, maybe she should have done so many things a girl barely of 16 and already ending her life.
I guess, that at that time of her untimely death all she was thinking about was if death really was going to be the most amazing part about living...
What would they say?
What if I had a sibiling?
What if like she or he walked in and saw me dead?
What would they think?
Would they be angry or would it drive them insane?
What would be my effect on the world?
What would death be like would it be a peaceful cold embrace, that one would share with a statue, or would it be the most amazing part of living?
She held onto the razor like a holy icon, and begged that God could forgive all the roads in her arms, 'cos this is what she must have thought.
So she sat there and prayed with the knife in her skin, hoping, wishing, that God will one day forgive, these horizontal lines.
"Oh the cat got me again," she would say so we never got to see the turmoil that resided inside her, inside that little jail cell, with that heart that pounds so relentlessly, so unwavering so painful each beat is, every single one going after the other with that rhythm, that annoying rhythm, she wants it all to end!
So this time she puts them in as verticals, and she falls on her knees hoping that God sees this as a sacrifice not an "I quit"
Oh if God saw her he turned his back her, so she lay in the amounting puddle of dark red liquid, slow gasp escaped as pain erupted her heart kept fighting, she curled up waiting for the rhythm to stop.
What would they say when they would find her?!
She possibly should have left a note, a requiem for her death, maybe she should have told somebody about this, maybe she should have done so many things a girl barely of 16 and already ending her life.
I guess, that at that time of her untimely death all she was thinking about was if death really was going to be the most amazing part about living...