It’s fine call me a coward say it over my grave if you think you’re brave .

Wondering why it’s wrong to crave being saved ?

I need a reason to breathe so I don’t get up and leave !

No amount of thread can get rid of the dread that’s why I wish to be dead .

There no point trying to ring no one ever listens for long please assure me I’m wrong .

The blood that dripped down my arm , I wish I could assure you the harm was an accident that the knife slipped or that the blade was dipped in red paint the truth is I’m no saint .

Please don’t learn about the burn I hide under my sleeve I don’t want the wound to find a place to live cause I fear I have nothing more to give .

It wasn’t long until my will was tested again this time with pills it’s weird feeling drowning under your sorrows as you struggle to swallow .

No one tells you the constant feeling of them in your throat or the way the taste coats it flavour it not something you want to savour.

Yet everyone was mortified so ashamed as they gifted me blame sharing emotion I’ve claimed within my brain .

Don’t excuse the stupid act that was always the way they’d react !