Is there something wrong inside my head?
I keep on wishing I were dead
Will writing about it help?
I think I am broken…
Threatening existence – testing faith –
Despair and depression comes
knocking on my door, Often…
I don’t ask for help
For I don’t know what I would say.
I just know deep inside
Something is killing me –
My mind is willing me –
To death, yes that’s the way.
Sometimes I question,
Was a Bertha always in me?
And I unleashed her now – Right?
Because this madness inside – I can’t fight.
And the thoughts – oh the beautiful thoughts
Of red wrists – hanging heads –
Of cutting myself up with a dull multi-tool ,
Seeing the blood ooze out, a pool !
Those feelings – oh how I want to feel
The numbness as a blunt blade skates through my skin
The struggle in breathing as I hang myself and a rough rope slits my throat out and in.
Why can’t I stop thinking of Self-harm ?
They say, It’s a sin.
Doxepin – Zoloft – Prozac – Will you keep me firm ?
Because they say, Pharmaceuticals will one day help me win.
Now it’s been more than a year.
Drowning still seems near,
No sky looks pink,
And I am still writing suicide notes in Black ink.