An addiction
An addiction that keeps me going...

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

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

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

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

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

Suicide he contemplated.
A gun he found...

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

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