Find What Ya Can't

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Life is Life

just something i wrote, maybe itll help somebody who feels the same

Submitted: January 15, 2018

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Submitted: January 15, 2018



If I could use all my fingers,

I'd only use four.

One, for the people. Who always cared, maybe never enough

Two, for a broken mind that ate me alive

Three, for the shadow that never let me feel alone.

But what are we really? If not alone?

Unity is a broken promise, linked arms can only hold for so long.

If anything connects us at all, it’s a distant look.

I see you over there. And I know you see me.

Yet the one thing we never share, is a caring word, or a small simple smile.

We are strangers, till the end, especially to ourselves.

What more could I regain, when all hope has been forgotten?

What more can I do, when my feet cross the edge of a cliff?

Im already sinking. Drowning in my own panicked breaths.

I have nothing to fear.

Does that also mean I have nothing left?

Maybe just maybe if I wait a moment more, ill feel better.

Maybe this doesn’t have to be a suicide letter.

Maybe its poetry in her ugliest of days.

Wipe away last nights tear stained cheeks

Stiffen up that upper lip

Suck it up buttercup

Stand up tall

Maybe my life can be worthwhile, after all I am alive

Yet maybe that’s the reason, I truly need to die.

Questions with answers aren’t really questions at all.

Number four in the finger I save for last.

And that, is the body in which I feel trapped.

Sadness is a feeling.

Isolation is a place.

Desperation is a song stuck on replay

Sing it loud and sing it proud

I have found my battle cry

“please help me..i want to die.”

Funny how not a sound is heard.

Ironic, really.

But, who is here to laugh?

Haha, not me..obviously.


The hotline is a fingertip away, my fifth one, at that.

Yet, it’s the same thing everytime.

Same questions, same worn, washed out, colorless lines..

“How can I help?..what do you want to be different, next time?”

maybe I want to be dead. How about that?

Why cant I just leave. And never come back?


Why cant I just want to be alive?


The simple act of thinking, is a battle to the death, for the purpose to survive.


And again I ask, to the only ears that will listen.

To myself, I repeat, im just running in circles.

Well, nobody said it was easy.

No one ever said,

It would be this hard…




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