Everything is going to fast i jsut want time to enjoy whats infront of me.

Poetry is there poetry is everyware i find my poetry in here in the blood that run through my vains the frown that runs across my face the scars that run benath my sleevs the tears that are hidden from the truth.

To clear my thoughts i drill a hole into my skull...

I site there with blood dripping down my rist, screaming asking god to take this pain away.

The blood falls as I take note,
First my wrists, and then my throat.

If I give you a hug, will you promise to kill me afterward?

Know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside, to try to kill the pain on the inside.

I'm not afraid of the gun in my hand, I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just afraid of the pain it will bring, and to see my best friends crying.

Forgetting all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.
Pretending someone else can can come and save me from myself.
I can't be who you are...

A sad memory is like an echo, it never ends...