The cool silver of the gun rests in my hands...
I look out into the stars and think of you.
I fell once to many, and now I can't stand…
The night you left me I was blue.
The knife slides across my wrists…
A real smile on my lifeless body.
I remember the first time we ever kissed…
I wish some would care...anybody.
The bottle of pills are on my desk…
Thinking about taking them all and end this fight.
In my mind you were and still are the best…
I just want to leave and see the light.
The bottle of beer on the counter…
I want to drink my sorrows away.
Maybe one day we'll rencounter…
I only wish you would want me to stay.
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Author:
WolfIsControlledByTheDemons (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 8th, 2017 11:33
- Comment from author about the poem: Hello everyone. I am back. Sorry I've been dealing with...things..anyways hope you've all been well and everything :)
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments1
The sorrow feeds on itself and grows into depression . Depression is the vine that chokes any sanity to death . And death is the crown that depression wears when it constitutes (makes law) to cast reality away .
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