Blinded

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I don’t want to do it
At least I don’t think so
But then why is my every thought
Consumed with how easy it would be
Ridiculously easy
And it would end all of this
Every misery, every guilt, every loneliness
Every bad feeling
Gone
It wouldn’t take much
A few extra pills, a quick slit of an arterial vein
The pain wouldn’t come near the pain I’ve felt in the past
And I would leave some behind
But would they care?
Would they even notice until it was time to yell at me again?
No; they wouldn’t they don’t even realize I’m here
They would go on fighting and ignoring me
Would they feel bad?
Maybe, but not because I’m gone, but because it makes them look bad
And the rest, they would cry. But they would get over it
They would understand, but
None of them ever truly cared enough in life, so why should they care in death?
It would be so easy
And they would finally see that
They never saw





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