Pain In Life Poem by Nick Schultz

Don’t ask why I hurt, ask not why I cry.
Half of you know the exact reasons why.
My cuts are bleeding, my throat is dry.
My heart cannot feel anymore, my soul has become a dark deep hole.
The tears that weep from my open wounds, are crimson and self-inflicted.
I’m tormented daily by scars and memories.
I’m starting to wonder, if I should go on.
Or if I should embrace the Reaper, and sink into peaceful oblivion.