A poem my friend wrote
Who doesn’t think about cutting themselves?Why don’t they just deal with their problems?
It’s absolutely ridiculous.
The way everyone appears happy.
But truly their dying.
Their stabbing themselves on the inside.
Soon there won’t be anything left to stab.
They’ll bottle it up.
Maybe they’ll get into escape drugs.
I don’t know if I can do it anymore.
I’m pretty sure I don’t have it in me to pretend I’m happy this time.
I know it’s coming.
The feeling that I can’t breathe, but yet I do.
The feeling that my heart’s being crushed and compressed.
Sometimes I feel proud just because I wake up in the morning,
Because I was able to actually go through the day