Suicide Lullaby Poem by Victoria Thompson

I feel my days are beginning to number
The edges of my fingers fall into a depression
Alone and Isolated I feel my once promising future fade.
Mother, if only you could of helped me,
but nobody can.

I have engulfed myself with too much loss of control
and am longing for a tremble of spirit
Bright eyed like a grubby mole.
Scratching, teetering for my pull
I'm blinded by the truth of my own self-destruction.

It feels so long ago that a could continue and just move on
i wait for that peaceful silence I could create when I was naive
Waiting for that subtle sensation of a prick to reconnect with life
The cloud of tempestuous frustration penetrates my sorrow.
Something has died in me and I'm not sure I can get it back.
So for the time being I sleep with my suicide lullaby