Standing on the edge,
Looking down below...
Collecting the old pieces of my former self,
Maybe it's time to put my life on the shelf...
Not painted black in anger
Nor pink and fresh and pure...
On the cold floor lays a knife
a lady who shadows it, rethinks her life...
She isn't real
Just a shell of a once human...
Set in a trance
From my hopeless eyes...
I wanna feel my life fade
I wanna feel every last breath of life...
This poem is so weird sooooo different to any...
I scream...and listen...
When you look at me who do you see ?
Look inside that part of you , where you hide to...
I gaze at the blade
I gaze at my wrist...
Why I have to live with depression all these...
I look at my arms and I just shed into tears...
Can't you see the obvious
That the soul inside of me...