I've Become Dangerous To Myself
I've become dangerous to myself.
Suicide thoughts run through me.
Its scary to even think when I'm alone.
Crying internally, it pains me more,
Because there is no piece of air I could catch to breath in;
I am hurting myself when I do this, but what more way to keep it hidden away from others who don't even care about me, they just pretend just to care so they get the gossip to spread.
I'm not suicidal, if that's what you think.
But that's the most dangerous part;
I'm becoming someone who's scaring me.
Hate has become to RAGE!
I am hurting myself internally and mentally,
And no one can hear me scream in agony.
I cry and cry, but its all inside;
I plead and plead, but its all trapped within me.
What is wrong with this person I call myself?
Is it puberty?
Or is it that illness called mental-ill; is that really me?
I hate myself, even more now.
And as I said before, its become into rage,
Now its attacking and eating me.
Inside all mentally, but its affecting me physically.
I wish myself different, many times in every waking hour I live and catch a breath of air.
But what's the use of wishing if it doesn't even come a percent close to change me?
I need something to help me with this feeling
I'm dying slowly, deacying, decaying.
Alive and lonely, sadly, sadly.
Rage and sorrow fill me up slowly, and slowly. As if I were praying for it to come, but really, I am not.
Its not fair what I'm doing to myself, I know that as truth.
But what can I do? I can't help this damn-ugly feeling, I know you wouldn't either, so
Don't say I'm suicidal, because I'm not. Its just the devil shoving these things in me,
But I try hard to keep these away.
I have more to live for.
That's why I'm here to say
I need help from someone
And I need it fast
I need to be in a meadow,
To cry out loud instead of holding it all in.
I need some advice,
To give me a better reason to live.
I'm scared.
This rage is very frightening towards me.
I'm afraid I've become dangerous.
But only with myself, so don't think I've become homicidal or anything.
I need something solid to help me stand up.
Because right now, all that's motivated to me is music, my close friend, and my dreams.
But I'm now dangerous to myself, which is frightening.
I need a slit, A slit of freedom to so it runs through my veins,
(And NO I'm not "emo," this line just means that i want a bit a pressure off my chest.)
That way I don't feel like I do,
Its so I feel like I have a purpose to live through life,
That way I don't commit something stupid that I'd regret the moment I'm really dying.
All I feel right now is that I'm not good enough for my parents,
Or for anyone else.
I know I had a reason to live, or I wouldn't be on this earth.
But for what?
I struggle, yet its so difficult.
But to keep living without feeling these terrible emotions,
Its the reason I write this poem.
To bury those feelings alive. In my chest by my heart. To keep them hidden from everyone else.
Even though I ignore them most of my time,
I know they'll come back to haunt me, but right now, I just want them to subside.
Suicide thoughts run through me.
Its scary to even think when I'm alone.
Crying internally, it pains me more,
Because there is no piece of air I could catch to breath in;
I am hurting myself when I do this, but what more way to keep it hidden away from others who don't even care about me, they just pretend just to care so they get the gossip to spread.
I'm not suicidal, if that's what you think.
But that's the most dangerous part;
I'm becoming someone who's scaring me.
Hate has become to RAGE!
I am hurting myself internally and mentally,
And no one can hear me scream in agony.
I cry and cry, but its all inside;
I plead and plead, but its all trapped within me.
What is wrong with this person I call myself?
Is it puberty?
Or is it that illness called mental-ill; is that really me?
I hate myself, even more now.
And as I said before, its become into rage,
Now its attacking and eating me.
Inside all mentally, but its affecting me physically.
I wish myself different, many times in every waking hour I live and catch a breath of air.
But what's the use of wishing if it doesn't even come a percent close to change me?
I need something to help me with this feeling
I'm dying slowly, deacying, decaying.
Alive and lonely, sadly, sadly.
Rage and sorrow fill me up slowly, and slowly. As if I were praying for it to come, but really, I am not.
Its not fair what I'm doing to myself, I know that as truth.
But what can I do? I can't help this damn-ugly feeling, I know you wouldn't either, so
Don't say I'm suicidal, because I'm not. Its just the devil shoving these things in me,
But I try hard to keep these away.
I have more to live for.
That's why I'm here to say
I need help from someone
And I need it fast
I need to be in a meadow,
To cry out loud instead of holding it all in.
I need some advice,
To give me a better reason to live.
I'm scared.
This rage is very frightening towards me.
I'm afraid I've become dangerous.
But only with myself, so don't think I've become homicidal or anything.
I need something solid to help me stand up.
Because right now, all that's motivated to me is music, my close friend, and my dreams.
But I'm now dangerous to myself, which is frightening.
I need a slit, A slit of freedom to so it runs through my veins,
(And NO I'm not "emo," this line just means that i want a bit a pressure off my chest.)
That way I don't feel like I do,
Its so I feel like I have a purpose to live through life,
That way I don't commit something stupid that I'd regret the moment I'm really dying.
All I feel right now is that I'm not good enough for my parents,
Or for anyone else.
I know I had a reason to live, or I wouldn't be on this earth.
But for what?
I struggle, yet its so difficult.
But to keep living without feeling these terrible emotions,
Its the reason I write this poem.
To bury those feelings alive. In my chest by my heart. To keep them hidden from everyone else.
Even though I ignore them most of my time,
I know they'll come back to haunt me, but right now, I just want them to subside.