Please don’t hold my hand
Please let go...

I see your cuts,
Don't think I didn't see your sleeve slip up...

You took your last breath
Your hand slipped away...

Talk of suicide and my fears of the institution
As I start to talk all my worst fears come out...

Suicide he contemplated.
A gun he found...

An addiction
An addiction that keeps me going...

In my room you find me passed out on the floor.
My arms covered in blood...the carpet stained red...

Quietly I sit in my room wondering if the day will...
Is there anything to live for? I wonder as i stare...

The urge.
The urge that creates an itch...