It is on days like these that
make me feel worthless.
Drugs cannot help me now...
want to pierce my heart with the hot blade of
a cold knife
blood leaving my body
soon lifeless
Seems hopeless
It all does.
No matter what.
Death is inevitable but long coming
Maybe if I write, he'll hear me...
So tired of the pain,
attempting to cope.
Miserable I sit here,
Perplexed by things unseen
Groping for hope.
And hope does not fail us...
except on days like this.
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2 comments:
sounds familiar, like I only bake when something is worrying me. Which is why I usually make cookies when Im by myself at home...I just made a batch of snickerdoodles.
Writer, I always appreciate and even long for your praise due to the fact that I so appreciate and adore your writings. Thank you! I could post lots more of this type of stuff... but I debate on it. I have to space it out or its too much, you know? Gets too heavy I think. Thanks!
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