February 6, 2009
Locked up as if in a jail,
Everday waiting for a little letter,
Telling me it will be okay and get a little better.

Little by little do they know my blood loss is great,
But yet unknown why so,
Taking me to counselors,
I release and set free every detained thought.

Shocked they stare at me,
Yet trying to help.

Get away,
For I know what you will say,
"Here's pills.
They're antidepressants,
No thoughts of suicide,
But I may be wrong in your case,
Take rubber bands,
No more razor blades,
Just snap them and you'll be okay."

Breaking down,
In time of need,
No friends to help,
All too busy with something else.

It's in my hand,
Pointed at my head,
The gun,
It's even loaded,
Pulling the trigger slowly,
No regrets for what I'm about to do.

I feel cold,
All I see is white,
I hear sirens,
And voices that are telling me I'll be okay.

I'm scared,
Even though I did this to myself.

I never said good bye,
I never told you I was leaving,
I thought you wouldn't care,
Now I'm dead,
And you cry over my body.

I'm in heaven now,
Don't be sad,
It was meant to be,
I'll be your angel,
Because you were there for me.

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Krystle F. said...
Apr. 7, 2009 at 7:23 pm
Wow I can completly relate to this and sometimes people don't realize that you need them until its to late.
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