my suicide

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  • Suicide

    my suicide

    my suicide
     
    Sick to my stomach.
    As my eyes fill with tears.
    My mind goes blank.
    As I realize my fears.
    Too many scars on my skin.
    My heart breaks into thousands of shards.
    This is a war I cannot win.
    As the devil lays out his cards.
    So call me a psycho, call me an outcast.
    Tell me I'm nothing.
    Cause I know my life will not last.
    So preach to me.
    Try to make me one of you.
    I know what I am.
    And to myself I am true.
    Try to break me.
    And tell me lies.
    Try to change me.
    And make me see everything through your eyes.
    I know what is right.
    I know what is wrong.
    I have done nothing to you.
    So why do you say I don't belong?
    I try to stand so I can talk to you.
    But my knees are weak and your words are not true.
    Don't change me from what I am.
    I have done nothing worng, so this is my last stand.
    The razor gleams so brilliantly bright.
    I know my last heart break was tonight.
    So I take my life out of gods hands.
    Into my own, while you refuse to understand.
    I did this for me, and for you.
    Call me selfish, and anything but one of you.
    You always said there was no escape.
    But what of suicide?
    Yes. That surely was my fate.

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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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