Possibly a letter of sorts…:
I am the bitter, the cold dead inside,
I no longer want to let everything lay where it may hide,
Is no one aware?
Of this sorrow, this despair?
This is… in fact, a cry for help I believe,
Why don’t I reach out, why must I concede?
Why must I let it unravel as it will?
For feeling… sweet feeling, for this I would kill,
My heart is done… no more, no more,
Though I may love still, for you I adore,
For those of you who may read this… as this may be the last thing I write,
I love you all truly, honestly this night, I’m afraid I might do it. Go through with it at long last,
I don’t know what to do with it,
My petty excuse for a life,
For too long I have felt this way, been in this strife,
Nothing ever has gone how I planned it,
I cannot believe, even I don’t understand it,
This seems like a suicide note… and perhaps maybe it is,
These tears block my vision, these thoughts cloud my mind,
I’m left hopeless, depressed and so blind,
What can I do, to stop all these thoughts,
What can be done, to subdue this darkness inside me,
What can I say… to make you forget me?
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