I'm crying
It's almost 11
In the midst of my despair
A belt catches my eye
I grab it
Fasten it around my neck
And hang it in my closet
But then I chicken out
I can't bear to live
But I'm too scared to die
Gathering my last ounce of strength
Before I see nothing but black
I untie the belt from my closet
My neck hurts
It hurts to breathe
It hurts to speak
It hurts to drink
It hurts to eat
Everything hurts
Bruises are already forming
My legs feel so weak
It's only Monday
I have school tomorrow
What will the kids say?
What will they think of the bruise?
I should've given this more thought
And done this another day
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Author:
Ajax (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 19th, 2021 00:25
- Comment from author about the poem: I'd prefer not to give the reason why I wrote this
- Category: Sad
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: James Michael, RainningHearts
Offline)
Comments1
I just hope, for your sake
this is your expression of creativity, with that added shock factor
and not based on anything literal, you've experienced in life..
(if the actual reality of context
is anything close to the latter,
please: seek help)
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