Friends, Thoughts, Turning Back

Copyright, Gabby

my friends are crying
i wish they would stop
depressed and lonely
they think of death
cuts and scratches
bruised souls, torn emotions
feel better, please.
for me. dont do it.
a story to tell
an attempt at death.
the point of turning back
living to see tomorrow.
my friends
they wont stop crying
so sad, so blue
i wish i could help
ive yet to find a cure
the make their sorrow disappear.
save them from a fate
at which i almost took
feel better, please.
i dont know what to do
to stop you from feeling these feelings
my friends.
they cry
they have thoughts of giving up
thoughts of dying
thoughts of ending it all.
i tell them a tale
of a fate i almost took
a point of turning back.
thinking of the people
the things, everything
theyd leave behind.
i wish that i could help them
wipe away their tears of pain
or suffering.
i realize i have it better than them
i dont know what to do.
i seem so small compared to them.
make my friends better.
heal their wounds.
remove their scars.
embrace them with every bit of your being.
my friends they cry.
they have thoughts,
of death.
save them please.
my friends.
my hope.
my reason for living.
my everything.

Crimson Escape

Copyright, Gabby

i cant find relief
i cant find an escape
these walls around me becoming closer
the arguing has gotten out of hand
the yelling, the pleeding, the tears.
anger inside me, full of hate and despair.
i tear away from reality and race away from it all
i search for a place to relax, to calm down
in my hands i now clutch tightly to my only key
the key to the door that takes me to the promise land.
a small silver razorr, once used to remove hair.
now used to remove flesh. to pry into my soul
and let my sorrow leak out in a bright red fury
one cuts never enough, maybe two, no three
threes hardly satisfying, lets try four.
four, the number of people living in this house
the number of people arguing, yelling, all the time.
lets make it five, or six. why me? why here? why now?
i give up, i cant take this, its too much to handle.
ill hide it, keep it inside, where no one can see but me.
i hear long sleeves are “in” this year. ill fit in just right.
i hate being like this. i hate what i am. i hate what i do.
make it seven. no eight. lets try nine. nine, my brothers nine.
i wonder whats going on in his mind. im so mean to him.
i dont mean it. its not on purpose. i deserve 10. or 11.
im getting carried away. but it feels so good.
its a relief, the outside world doesnt exist anymore.
isnt it beautiful. the trickling trails of crison blood running down my arm.
stop yelling, please. why do we live this way. we’re so lucky.
dont take this for granted. look around you. love life.
stop picking on him. dont hit her. leave my father out of this.
12, 13, 14. so much confusion its over, im done with it.
i cant handle this world. this life. these ways.
15, 16, 17. its starting to hurt now. where did the trails go?
their not so beautiful anymore. their terrifying. whats going on.
is this it? am i gone? am i free to go?
im sorry it had to end. a crimson trail of terror
leading to nowhere but here. empty. nothingness.


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