For The Suicidal

Red

Red, the red beads of red, that drip and drip, It doesn't hurt much, but if it did, if it did, I wouldn't express it, it's hard to stop, you know when you do something for so long? You can't stop right? Even if others say to stop, stop because it's 'hurting' you "Stop for me" they might say "you need help" they might say, but when it comes down to it, they don't help, no one  hears your screams out for help

Help

Help is a meaningless word when it comes to "I" or "Me" it's never heard of, so those screams and cries out for help, get hushed, hushed by one's self, or someone not welling to listen, they don't want to hear those cries out for help, because maybe they don't understand, maybe they can't understand, it's never "I want to understand, as your care taker" it's always either "Your lying" "Just keep your head up" "I'll get you help" and when they say "I'll get you help" they end up lying and never actually got you help, but if they did everything might be different, different for you, different, good different

Red