These feelings I hold back,
These feelings that stab my back.
Am a boy with a beautiful smile. And a deranged mind.
I twist in my sleep.
I sleep through the twists of my depraved dreams.
I smile at pain,
And kiss the hot coal.
Suicide is not a destination,
It's a journey.
I walk upon these thorns,
As I suffocate on the smell of roses.
I play the guitar,
But there's razors instead of strings.
My thoughts dance,
As the demons in my head sing along.
I can tell the sharpest knife,
Even with my eyes closed.
The silence in my chest,
Has the day I died attached to it. How will it be suicide?
If you killed me first?
Elliepoet
