Disquiet

They say the first cut is always the deepest,

But the blade refuses to enter the skin.

I wonder if this would make me the weakest,

Because these thoughts imply I live in sin.

 

My life is a lie and I don’t think I’ll make it,

It all adds up inside and I can’t find it in me to fake it.

 

The hopes and dreams never live up to reality,

And I die inside when I think I won’t reach it.

There’s so much pressure dressed up so pretty,

Sometimes it makes me wish I could breach it.

 

My life is lie and I don’t think I’ll make it,

So help me, God, I just wish I could break it.

 

I struggle to breathe but I can’t make a sound,

The people around me need the peace and quiet.

I hold it inside and the cycle goes around,

I’m never heard and the anger starts to riot.

 

My life is lie and I don’t think I’ll make it,

I need it so bad I start to crave it.

I’m not druggie because I don’t do drugs,

But I wish I did for the release they give.

I only have my imagination and even that rubs,

Just give me enough of a reason to live.

 

My life is lie and I don’t think I’ll make it,

I need help so I can save it.

 

I’ve never thought about suicide before,

Just about the rush of self-harm.

If I think about the mess it’d leave on the floor,

Would it not raise much more of an alarm?

 

My life is lie and I don’t think I’ll make it,

Would anyone hear me if I leave it?

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