Sunday, April 19, 2015

Soul Suicide

These words are like knives and they cut into my sides and I am barely sleeping these nights
While I wouldn't suicide, it's a wonder how many times I've slit these wrists from the inside and how often I've hung myself on my own ropes in the hope that I cease to exist
For it's all in the mind and off late I haven't been the smiling kind
I wish that someone could show me the light but even then to walk into it I may not have the might

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