My Silent Death

Everyday I die a little more of my silent death. Everyday my head falls a little lower, unable to look back up. Everyday another tear rolls down my cheek as I wake up wishing I wouldnt ever have to again. This silent death eats away at my heart, nobody notices a bit. No cure except for one I have found alone. These pills and needles give me kisses and welcome me into their home. They act like old friends of mine and make me happy at once. They cheer me up and I stop by more often, getting their help. This razor is like the mother I never had, she sooths me in my time of need. She helps me release some of my pain little by little. She leaves me with the scars that show what Ive gone threw, they show all the pain and unhappiness. My disease kills me little by little, unknown to anyone who pretends to care.

~please comment~