Am I really that weak?
That I can't help but seek
an answer, as I freak
while the red ooze leak
onto the ground as it spread
soaked up by my threads.
Shown to those like friends
hoping that it sends
a message-SOS,
but I cannot rest.
it's for my best
but I fail, just like the rest.
My dreams end in dust
at such a young age, as I cuss
for my time here is puss.
No matter how much I fuss.
It's a waste that I am here.
I'm controlled by my fear.
I am a waste of air, my dear
no answer, do I hear?
End me now as I pray.
End it before you also fray.
My mind wonders as I lay.
Just do as I say,
before the next day.
~Note: For those that have cut, this is for you. I know the feelings all too well, don't do so anymore but I felt the feelings that are associated with it first hand. And believe me there are times that I am tempted to do so myself again but its a battle, a temptation we all must fight.
