An organised mess

How many times will I have to kill myself?

I know, you're confused...

How could I die more than once? 

That question seduced you

Now I have your attention 

I can finally release my secret 

My secret of daily suicide. 

Let me tell you first, I wasn't always this secretive  

I used to corrupt the ears of strangers and make friends with my neighbours 

I would flaunt my voice but wise men only speak when they don't have a choice 

I always had a choice 

But I didn't choose well 

I dished out my secrets because I trusted all and was naively shocked when betrayal put me into free-fall 

Word quickly went around, rumours are so contagious and not being safe was proven to be dangerous 

I put my trust in the wrong girl 

Then my secret was a secret to the world 

Stupid so stupid, I couldn't be that girl whose trust would be so easily be broken 

Falling for secrets safe... the safe was always open 

I chose to be a different version of me 

My wrinkly wet body lay stiff in a river wrapped in debris. 

Let me tell you this second, I was not always this sensible 

I would cripple myself in debt for the sake of a singular bet 

I would glug-glug-glug until I drowned in Ever-clear Grain and drink even more if I could still feel the pain

But I still felt the pain

I always felt the pain

I still feel the pain

I would eat a dish of weed-brownies, I loved my mind-numbing diet and for the meantime this meal made my brain quiet 

The stronger I fought it, the harder it fought back, and I kept trying heavier and heavier medicines... seduced by the trap 

I used the wrong methods to deal with my truth

My truth buried so far back into my youth 

Idiot, such an idiot... you were broken as a child but that doesn't mean you still have to be broken

I have to protect my inner child, sensible me has spoken

I chose to be a different version of myself 

After pushing myself right to very edge 

I threw my limp un-serving body over the ledge.  

Let me tell you thirdly, I wasn't always this open to suicide 

I used to think my idealisations were wrong, my willpower weak, my ideas strong 

I tortured myself for the very feeling, and cut blood from my thighs as another form of healing 

It fuelled the feeling 

The scars are still healing 

 I drew the pictures of my death and planned out my suicide step by step 

I swallowed the pills like they were haribo's and I knew my suicide wouldn't be a regret 

It was a regret 

A regret i'll never forget 

The moment I actually tried to die 

I realised it wasn't me I wanted to kill 

But the purposeless voices that were living inside 

I silenced the voices and I planned out their death 

I held my throat so tightly until I felt her gasp for her last breath 

And now every other day 

Is just another death.