Scattered and broken left behind
Little by little going out of my mind...
I am folded up and ready to be
Lit by fire by the edge...
As I sit here
With my blade in hand...
If he, like I, whom view with dimming light:
The final setting sun within his glass...
Who Am I?
I am just a soul...
maybe when i'm dead
they'll talk to me in their dreams...
I am on the verge
of overdosing...
The thing about death is it's final
Often there's no time for one more good-bye...
Amy,
My beautiful angel looking down upon me as I walk...
I want
To cut...
Why now?
Why this emptiness...
I’m ok with the pain.
It’s a dark place...