I was wrong to dream,
I was wrong to even hold a thought in my head,
Maybe it was a reason I wanted to,
Like death smiling at me in a white dressing gown,
Full of smiles and waving, floating, with light in her eyes,
She looks so healthy and pure, so new,
Maybe death was the answer,
My hands they sometimes seem to have their own minds,
They like to punish the skin they hate,
With a staple gun, a knife, a needle, a blade,
A bobbin pin, a paper clip, some glass and a nail,
I didn’t know why, I never really did,
Still seeking an answer, through pain,
I feel good, so calm and perfect,
Covered by water, my eyes open at the bottom of the pool,
My arms stretch out and smiling,
Im down they’re not breathing, so learning nothing,
Not breathing and dying slowly myself is decaying,
The black me, the shadow me, the numb me,
Looking down, never moving or reaching,
The disparate face lying lonely at the bottom of the pool,
No tears because the water hides and hinders them,
I’ve dreamt for so long,
After a lot of things, a lot of situation,
In memories I deny relevance of,
In my head a thought lurked,
Of how my hands where going to hold the memorise back,
Not let them escape or rule my life,
Because then I would be a fool,
So long I’ve seen my hands, blood I cannot clean,
I hated it more, I’ve hate me and my skin more each day,
I wanted to eat myself because I’ve grown so bored,
I’ve wanted to burn so I never existed,
I wanted to stop breathing so all my problems where fake,
I wished a lot in silent with tears soaking my face,
And sadness in groups around me, so black,
Their mean eyes red, making me see only hate,
I reached and fell through, not stood,
So now a corner was cold and enslaved,
Blanket on my lap, wrapped around, to hide,
Still the voices get through, a low growling that shakes me,
I shake me awake, I hold my arms and bang myself into the wall,
Please wake I repeat, eyes open, please see,
But I never do, and still I dream,
Of holding the gun heavy in my hands,
The sound of the beautiful clip as I pull back the safety,
The room empty and white,
Corner a light blue shadow to define itself,
And me so blank, so loving towards only the gun,
A tear from my eyes it seems warm down my cheek,
And I smile the gun in my mouth,
A bitter, metallic taste, so smooth and shiny,
Hearing it bang against me teeth as I shake through coldness,
Hands holding it and eyes still closed,
My finger clenches, a thought in my head, of all the pillow sheets I had blooded,
And all the cuts and burns I had hidden,
Of all the food I had wasted, and all the tears I had produced,
So blank and smiling I am now, my hands they hold power,
The trigger slipping slightly, my hands are sweating,
My grip is slipping and it feels uncomfortable for me to hold it any longer,
My eyes shut tight I put and push and squeeze one last time,
I feel it, a pain that I cannot describe, so relieving,
I feel, as everything in my head was never there, burning,
Like a harsh wind has just blown into my ears and growled, and bitten,
Feeling so alive when dead,
Little girl smiling and waving, bright light that now blinds me,
The white wall turns red, me staining something pure behind,
Banging against the wall and to the floor, my head,
My hands bang me against the wall again and again, it repeats,
I beg to be awake, come on wake up a mouth moves unheard,
Not breathing, me at the bottom of the pool,
An empty box I never filled there beside me,
Smiling and sliding, my face now not human,
Bloods around me and im in a state of depression,
Still shaken by myself to wake up,
Still begged by myself to open and stand,
But me hating myself more,
And not listening, me becoming so black, a following shadow of myself,
As I walk away, run away, die away,
From that pool, I turn blank…
