I need to write,
things are getting too confusing
for my poor heart to handle.
For it to comprehend.
What is it saying?
The heartbeat too weak
to make out what it's saying.
What?
Emo?
No, that's not it.
Broken..., no, it always says that.
Confused?
Yes, that's it.
I don't know what to do!
God make it stop!
Everything is spinning out of control,
can't catch hold
of what's happening.
My heart stopping,
wanting to give up.
My mind can't keep up,
what do I do?
I can't trust
anyone, some secrets are better left in the dark.
They wouldn't understand,
and they wouldn't be able to sympathize either.
Because,
they just don't care.
Or
they prefer to judge
the girl sitting alone crying
over nothing.
Or so it seems.
Maybe she cries
because she knows no matter how long she stalls
she still has to go home at night.
Maybe she cries
because she's sick of seeing people she cares about
hurting.
Maybe she cries
because she never seems to be good enough anymore.
She cries, because her heart hurts too much.
Oh well,
she'll stop soon and then things will go back to normal.
It's what they all say.
But she's not there the next day
or the next
or the next.
People are starting to wonder,
they're talking.
Then one day,
the school announces the suicide of the girl.
'Oh well,
she'll stop soon and things will go back to normal.'
Doesn't cut it anymore does it?
Will you go visit her grave?
Ya, I don't think I will either.
This poem is for all the suicides, so if one of your friends, family members, whatever, commited suicide please forgive them, they tried they're hardest.
This poem is for all the emos, so if you're like me, I understand. I know it's hard, please, keep trying. Even though it hurts, your heart still beats.
This poem is for all the people thinking about commiting suicide. I understand where you are, I think about it all the time. But really, it doesn't make anything better. People are still gunna talk about you. Depressing, but sadly it's the truth, some people just don't know when to stop. Please know that that there's always someone who doesn't want you to do it. and in this case, I don't want you to. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for ya. Just don't grab the knife, k?
Love, Heart of Ice
Nov.-5-09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ya I don't think I will either.