I’m so, so sorry.
For thinking these things
For considering how many pills it would take to kill me for certain...
Let me hold your hand.
Memories of pain no longer exist,
In our world.
Free from hate and suffering…
There is no future, I’ve forgotten my past.
It doesn’t stop me from feeling afraid.
Or cowering in the corner, huddled closely to the blade.
And when you find me in the morning
You got what you always wanted.
Power. Control. Possession.
And how does it make you feel?
This is who you are Mom.
If I had the chance, I’d wish for a friend:
Much greater than I.
Someone who understands the power of speech,
the beauty of one’s own voice,