Could this really
be the end?
Will the fight
be given up
this easily?

This is the last time,
that I'll sit here
and swallow my pride.
This is the last time,
I'll ever have to suffer,
in such a miserable condition.
This is the last good-bye.

That weary look
on my face
that simply says,
“I can't do it anymore.”
will merely become a
f r a g m e n t
of peoples' memories.

No more
fighting.
No more
crying.
This is the last time.

Please, forgive me,
for taking the sadness so far,
for resorting to such a
fatal stunt,
for leaving everyone,
and everything behind...
with nothing more than
a mere good-bye.

Does no one understand
the pain hidden behind
this petty facade?
So plastered and fake,
shellacked and airbrushed,
agonizingly forced
into a happy expression,
in a candied world with plastic features.

Can you please
just hold me
tightly and at least
let me pretend
that I'll be okay?

The walls are caving in,
and I can hardly breathe.
Everything fades in, then out,
back in again...
Reality slips through my fingers
like the ashes of cigarettes,
but what should I care?
It's just another average night,
dancing with death,
waiting for the end.