Suicide pills and bottles thrown,
anti-depressants and dark under eye circles
from all the sadness slipping in known.
Self-harming wrist scars coming down a tone.
Emo is the label, never really outgrown,
but what they call you isn’t to what you respond,
that you must fight to reach,
prove who you are to yourself,
all the pain, all the hurt inside the moments,
life starts now and it isn’t the numbing glows,
want to feel everything, especially the bad,
you as the living proof of survival understanding
as a tornado touches down in your home,
only ever fierce winds blown.
Pill poppers, shove the capsules down the sink,
cutters, put your blade in the trash,
live today whatever that means as you
begin to think and issues clash.
omg!you are indeed very expressive,did the justice..thank you.
beautiful <3
Beautiful, and oh so true. I always like to see another virus by you!