BLADE, BOTTLE, NOOSE
It was never rock, paper, scissors,
It was blade, bottle, noose
Can you guess what I choose?
I couldn’t save myself,
Decisions on how to end,
Everything is a lie,
Even my so-called friends,
No one cares,
And when they do,
They just shove you in a room,
Yelling “get better soon”
I check the door,
They’ve locked me inside,
All I am,
Is a pain in their side,
Do you think I would choose to be this way?
No, I didn’t, thanks by the way,
You act as if you understand,
But you don’t feel my pain,
You only would if there was something to gain,
So here I sit,
As I play blade, bottle, noose,
Eventually I’m going to have to choose,
“Getting better” is so much harder than you claim,
For if it was easy,
I wouldn’t be in pain,
I wouldn’t stare at my sad life,
Wondering what it would be like,
To end it with a knife,
I thought Hell would look nicer,
But no, I’m still here,
Surrounded by family,
Who don’t see my tears.
