Loaded Gun.

Letting someone get close to you is 

giving them a loaded gun. It’s only a 

matter of time before they shoot you 

with it, leaving you with a gun shot 

wound right in your fucking chest. 

They’ll sit there dumbfounded, 

confused as to what’s happened. 

They’ll hide the gun, run away and 

leave you there to bleed yourself to 

death because they were too much of 

a coward to help you stop the bleeding. 

They’ll promise it was an accident and 

they never meant to hurt you. 

That they didn’t know the gun would go off.

They’ll watch from a distance as your friends 

find you crying in a pool of your own blood 

wondering what did you do that was so bad 

you deserved this. 

What you did was so godawful you deserved

a bullet wound in the chest, and you can feel 

your lungs starting to collapse and you start to asphyxiate. 

They’ll bandage you up like they always do, 

tell you it’s not your fault, and you deserve better. 

They tell you this too will pass, 

That’ll your wounds will heal and 

soon you’ll be able to breathe again. 

They’ll tell you that the storm can’t 

rain forever, the sun has to come out eventually. 

But happy endings never work out, do they?

People wonder why I suffer everyday.

Where I have to slit my body 

up to make the chaos inside 

me stop because all I see is 

white noise, tunnel vision, 

illusions and a false reality 

and I can’t crawl out. 

I can’t crawl out. 

And I’m rocking to myself 

grinning as the knife cuts 

my soul open and the black 

hole opens wide and I dive 

into the dark and disappear inside 

myself never to be seen again. 

People tell me to just smile more. 

It’s all in my head. 

No shit.

Give me your fucking voice. 

Give me something to hold on 

to other than the knife digging into 

my fucking stomach. 

Tell me about the fucking weather, 

how your dog left hair all over your bed, 

How bad traffic was driving home. 

Tell me something, anything 

so my mind has something 

else to focus on other than the 

fact I’ve been clawing my arms 

counting down the seconds until I 

can slit my throat and drown in 

the god damn bath tub.

For fucks sake give me a 

reason to crawl back. 

Please just give me a reason to 

crawl back to reality because I’m 

lost and I can’t find my way home.

I would love to feel alive 

again but I’m not used to change.

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