Tears on my pillow,
cuts on my wrist,
use a razor,
if bleeding resists...
Resist temptation,
to seek help and advice,
let pain be your friend,
let pain be your life.
Don't eat food at all,
become fragile and weak,
self mutilation,
forget how to speak...
Listen to the voices,
the ones in your head,
they say they hate you and want you dead!
Finally through the darkness,
you see hope,
a closet, a chair,
a short length of rope...
After you fall your painful life ends,
Manic depression your only true friend! !
if you are the voice in that poem you should really get help.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I know everyone is going to tell you 'Get HELP! ! ' But if you write it down, I have noticed it does make you feel better not keeping it in and threatning the life it holds. And you hear it all the time but you are really not alone with your feelings. You may not have a friend there to help, but there is a kid some where on this earth who can't take it anymore, and wants what you wrote about, an escape. But with those feelings comes more confusion, and you don't know what to choose. I'm not saying, so off your self. But when your time comes, remember, your are not dieing alone.