Suicide


My mind is a continuous battle. . ..
Fighting off evil monsters deeply embedded,
into the dark crevasses of my brain matter.
That is if I have any brain left?
Trying to convince myself that I should live.
When every aching bone in my body is telling me to end it.
The taste of suicide is lingering in my mouth
like a Jack Daniels for breakfast.
Just the fantasies of dying are orgasmic.
Like touching yourself to a snuff film.
All that I could believe; death; would end my suffering.
Because when you grow up different, the world doesn't care.
You make your choices in the end.
Sometimes you're to coward to face your fears.
Even if you fear dying, it is better than your unknown fatality.
Because life doesn't fit my description of happiness.
In any happy categories;

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