It’s dark, and I’m cold inside.

I’ve been crying,

But somehow,

I can’t cry anymore.

Through all this suffering,

My tears won’t come,

I’m on the brink of suicide.

I stare straight ahead,

And I wonder if like is really worth living.

To wake up, barely breathing,

Not hanging on to the will to live.

The day is a blur.

The call is getting stronger,

It’s all I can do not to kill myself,

To put myself out of this misery.

This life is not worth living.

I barely feel,

Though I put on a pretend disguise

Of happiness for fear of being questioned.

They would just reject me even more.

The joking, the ridicule,

Is life really worth it?

The misjudging, the exclusion,

Is life really worth it?

They are trying to change me,

It’s not what I am.

They think about defeat,

All I feel is pain.

Ready to part the next day.

But then,

I meet you.

I no longer have feelings of darkness.

But, the sort time I see you

Is not enough,

For the ridicule begins the next day.

The ones I love don’t except me,

I’m not the way they want.

I decide to make this easier.

I open a drawer and pull out,

A knife.

I touch the cold blade to my skin.

I’m saying goodbye to my sorrow,

To my once happy feeling, to you.

But my only thought is how

Great it will be to stop the pain.

“Oh well”, I whisper.