I wish I can tell you how I really feel but to speak as the wind can sometimes be as sharp as a knife to speak as a river can be as smooth stones But with a flaming tongue it can be as hot as flames.

The deepest desire(s) dwells in the heart and appears in the eyes; but when mingles with pain, reflected by red-shaded tears.

They tell me I should stop listening to the voices in my head. But what if one of thone voices is the reason I'm still here? What if that voice holds the knife back?

I'm a functioning suicidalist

Honestly, is it so wrong of me to not want to exists here anymore? My heartbreaks everyday seeing the oblivious evil in it. No matter what i do...there will be no difference here.

I'm over the cloud but I'm still grieving.

We really do not fail. We only decide.

I can't comprehend what darkness really is. I felt the same thing inside.

Everyday, is one more day I wish not come, but it came, and done, and I am gone.

I miss the sound of you