I Want To Die

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Dumped on the last day before I go back to school after the depressing school holidays. But this time on the first days of a new semester, the bullying is far worse....

Today is the last day before I have to go back to school.

The holidays have been average because I am in love, yet it feels like a padlock. 

Today is Sunday and I am by the phone, waiting for your call.

Everyone will be out for the last time living their lives like a drug.

Drugs that are expired, so more will be hired.

The filthy sex they have without wearing protection, a child called syphilis born on the street.

Telling each other stories like a book being out of print.

I wait for your call, I’m as invisible as the wind, I’m the ghost haunting my own home.

A text message on my phone and I am knocked off my throne.

A picture of you with another girl, she is your slave of tomorrow.

I’m now a flower of spring, decaying in the sun, drowning when watered.

 

I am depressed by the thought of school tomorrow 

I already know what is going to happen, a premonition instead of a dream.

People will be laughing while I know that I will be fucking crying.

I feel like a puppet with no friends because I can’t make myself laugh.

I am a bad comedian, the day the laughter died.

All my life I have been bullied and I thought that you were my saviour.

My heart was a flowerbed, now it is a coffin with your name inside.

You have buried my love deep into cold earth, it died after making a good living.

I once preferred autumn but I want to die like ashes instead.

 

The sun leaves the sky because it is feeling sickly and slumbered.

Leaving the sky reminds me of you leaving me.

I finally get your call and you tell me that it is over.

The phone is slammed down hard, my heart bleeding and scarred.

Nothing to look forward to now as my future has replaced the present.

The night is dark and my heart is in a playground for monsters.

I am the only flower yet to grow in a field of spring.

Instead of thinking of you, I’ll think of death, my new boyfriend.

 

Today is Monday the first blade, where suffering at school, was the lesson made.

The land is building a slumbered bed, my escape for when my life is dead.

Popular girls at school started a rumour worse than a Chinese whisper.

Throughout the day I became the comedy if everyone’s laughter.

I found nothing to be funny, yet the audience of the school, found it hilarious.

My breasts felt like bouncy castles deflating at a child’s birthday.

I’m bruised and battered as my skin begins to spell the words of bullying.

 

When I return home I’m all alone in the bathroom, holding a blade that is my favourite trophy.

At a wedding it is the bride marrying the groom.

A rusty piece of metal that is as beautiful as flowers drawing water.

A rusty piece of sharp metal that is conducting the orchestra.

By picking it up I am the first person to ever request an encore.

I think about cutting a vein, just to witness a different coloured rain.

I put the blade to bed because it is in slumber after the lullaby I sang to it.

If I face bullying tomorrow, at least I have a vein I can borrow.

 

Today is Tuesday the second blade, and the homework of bullying will not fade away.

The popular girls predict a new rumour, and bullying becomes my brain tumour.

Their fists hitting me like a child born to a violently abusive father.

My eyes breaking like glass and my tears cannot be replaced by double glazing.

Teachers walk past me like I’m a homeless person who is a criminal.

Their words of plastic surgery make me think about going under the knife tonight.

When I bleed they are sharks that can smell my blood from a mile away.

 

When I am home I pick up a different blade and my skin is ready to sing.

I think about the blade being a rapist, where the cut of skin will give my blood a sexual disease.

Looking like a prostitute fucking the streets with syphilis.

My eyes are a portrait frozen making my tears too cold to cry.

The blade close to my skin, getting courage for a marriage proposal.

The blade is undressing my skin like a prostitute taking her own clothes off.

I don’t cut that deep, meaning tonight that my wound will sleep.

 

Today is Wednesday the third blade, and I wonder if my coffin is ready today.

I am keeping the self inflicted earthquake of my skin hidden from the cctv of peoples’ eyes.

Bullying has become my own Siamese twin.

Not separated at birth, it is the most popular between the two of us.

People post photo shopped pictures of me in prostitute’s lingerie fucking a dead corpse.

It make me believe that my boyfriend dumped me for necrophilia.

I am the most popular kid in school for the wrong reasons, getting an A in bullying. 

 

When I am home I pick up a new blade, and a new friend will be made.

The blade is ice skating on my skin, being chased by sharks who want warm blood.

I feel my heart has become a balloon as it is floating with the air of blood.

Lifting up my top and I see that my stomach has failed to smile today.

The surface feels soft like I’m writing a lullaby for a loved one.

I gently carve a pumpkin on my stomach, smiling instead of being scary.

That’s the fortitude of my art skills as I leave suicide unfinished for tonight.

 

Today is Thursday the fourth blade and my skin looks like a failed attempt of creating Frankenstein.

I look like an Egyptian mummy, a mummification of bandages.

In school my clothes don’t keep my wounds covered from the plague of humanity.

Bullying reveals them and I’m trampled on by the elephants of Africa.

I want to die because death will be a greater education than what this school can offer.

My ex boyfriend walks past me and kicks me in my ribs.

I’m the spider on the floor unable to hide in the web that I created.

 

I’m finally home and I’m on the floor in the bathroom.

Four blades were my best friends but only one told me a deep secret.

The fourth blade will cut the ribbon of my femoral artery, a new shop has opened.

Four seconds until my death, I’m a car at green lights.

Three seconds until my death, I’m a train travelling with no brakes.

Two seconds until my death, I’m a aeroplane that has left the runway.

One second until my death, I’m staring at the blade in my final breath.

I die as I become a ghost; when do I haunt myself again?

 

I Want To Die © 2021 Dexter Angelus Draven. All rights reserved. 


Submitted: May 02, 2021

© Copyright 2021 TheGothicUndying. All rights reserved.

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Comments

hullabaloo22

Very bleak, Dexter. Perfectly captures the damage that bullying so often can cause.

Mon, May 3rd, 2021 6:08pm

Author
Reply

It’s a subject that will unfortunately always exist. No awareness or anything will prevent this. It feels good to write on here again. Appreciate your comment Hully!

Mon, May 3rd, 2021 3:35pm

BriannasBooks

This is a really emotional piece that reflects how heavily bullying can weigh down on a person. Even the slightest comments can cause deep insecurities. Some of the scenes in this piece reminded me of the days when I was bullied in middle school, although it was definitely nowhere near as bad as the character in this piece experienced. You did a fantastic job with the pacing of this poem and showing the heartbreak this poor girl had to endure. I really loved the ending and how it felt as if I was racing through time as the countdown to her death began. Well done as always Dexter! :)

Fri, May 7th, 2021 12:58pm

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