As Good As Dead

... A poem based on myself ...

Look at how she’s sitting there
Not knowing what to do
Does she stop the bleeding
Or does she let it soak through?

Decisions like this in her life
She’s made a few times before
Now the time has come again
To make a decision once more

But look how she sits there crying
Look at her pale, blue eyes
How can she stay in this world
And live in her own lies?

She convinces herself that things are okay
When in reality, everything’s wrong
She tries to keep her head up high
When deep down she knows she’s not strong

It’s not okay to use a blade
And have cuts along your arm
And it’s not right to live this way
And just constantly self-harm

But what else has she got to do
When she’s locked up in depression
She just has her twisted rhymes
And her suicidal obsession

She’s standing there lost in thoughts
As she feels her knees go weak
Her time has come to make a decision
When her weakness is at it’s peak

Looking down at her bleeding wrists
She begins to contemplate why
Why did she ever resort to the blade
That’s forcing her to die?

She turns to the mirror for one last look
To see her own reflection
Staring back is a girl whispering
“You’re the perfect imperfection”

Her mind’s made up, the decision’s set
And now there’s no turning back
One last thought runs through her mind
As her mind becomes so black

“All these years I’ve been ‘alive’
But it’s all just in my head
I think I’ve made the right decision
For I was already as good as dead”

© Copyright 2005