I don’t understand what you’re expecting of me,
your needs a bottomless pit.
Just because you don’t understand these feelings,
doesn’t make me a misfit.
I don’t wish you to understand,
this mind, it’s my own personal hell.
I’m scribbling down my note written in my own twisted fate,
hoping no one remembers to tell.
The rope, hung ever so delicately,
my last and final hope.
The knocking on my door loudens,
as my body begins to mope.
5 comments
Oh my…. It better not be too late, I try to help anyone who feels like this, but this is a poem, and if this happens….
Oh my…. It better not be too late, I try to help anyone who feels like this, but this is a poem, and if this happens…. It’s just sad to read all of these notes
I’m fine, no need to concern about me.
I have gone through a lot lately I’m.always in pain I feel I need to no longer exist
I feel the same. Yet I am still here, maybe there’s something there for us?