confused
suicidal
LIVING
i dont know anymore. things get good and then fall aimlessly into nothing. so i wrote a poem..
there is a woman wearing my clothes and my hair, smell, and my skin – but it isnt me..
sin is like ink, it bleeds into a person – colouring, making you someone other than you used to be. try as much as you want, you just cannot get yourself back..
words can’t pull me back from the edge – neither can daylight
this isnt something to get over. its an atmosphere i need to learn to breathe – take it into my lungs with every gasp as if im holding onto the dearness of my life..
i wonder who this person is going through the motions of my life.
i want to take her hand.
and then, i want to push her
hard
off a cliff.
2 hours to go.
2 comments
Madddddddy whats all this, get on chat?
theres nothing to talk about
i cant do it anymore.