Sweat dreams of suicide,
Depression luring me to a fatal end,
Every time I fall asleep,
My hearts locked away,
Holding these secrets from the world,
Life’s pond so murky with lies,
Hating the time I spend alone,
Waiting for the nothingness to sweep me away,
Lost like pages from a ancient book,
The crescent pages burn with passion,
When my last voice is only depression,
Laughing with pity,
Telling me its over,
Mocking me again,
Putting out its great hand,
Helping me to die,
This time I welcome it with blood-covered arms,
Quietly waiting for the blanket of death,
If I can get away a few minutes before,
This life is so much worse than no life at all.
"Sometimes there is another way to avoided the end... Somtimes the ends all you want..." - Ian Robert Potapoff
