You Thought Were Suicide Crashing Into A Sea Of Anti-depressants (

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Suicide and depression are very serious matter; way to serious to overlook.

Submitted: March 24, 2013

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Submitted: March 24, 2013




When we were little, and even now,

We go through life being told that stupid rhyme;

Sticks and stones may break your bones,

But words will never harm.

You can't tell me a broken bone hurts more than a broken heart.


I was 13 when I was first called ugly.

From then on I was bombarded with names and hurtful lies.

We all were. We were called them all.

No one ever seems to hear your cries.

The pain gets to be to much and you think there's no way out.

You stash away pills and hide away your blades.

You thought you were suicide, crashing into a sea of anti-depressants.

Some say life isn't for everyone.

Many agree. They all believe they aren't fit for life.

Destroying themselves with every chance they get,

Because they believe they shouldn't be here.


Everyday life has become a hassle due to the names.

I tried to kill myself. Targeting the pain. 

And when I went home,

The people I call my parents had the audacity to say, "get over it."

Well life doesn't work that way.

If it did, we'd all be happy.

People wouldn't cry themselves to sleep everyday.

People wouldn't harm themselves.

People wouldn't feel the need to hide how they really feel from the world.

There'd be no more hurt, no more pain, no more lies.

But no, stick and stones break your bones.


We all grew up believing we weren't beautiful and that no one would love us.

So we make ourselves bleed out the pain so we eventually can't feel anything at all.

Don't tell me that hurts less that a broken bone.

Growing up, school was a war place and hallways were the battlefields.

Each day was another battle lost. Why continue fighting?

Something kept us going. Something deep inside knew there was great things planned for us.

So now you look back, at all the suicide plans and torn up flesh,

Thanking yourself for all the battles you fought against yourself,

And having the strength to win them.

You look back and realize you won the war,

And it will all soon be over.


Most kids grew up this way, fighting against themselves for their own life.

All because of those stupid names and horrid lies we were told.

That little rhyme about sticks and stones, and words unable to harm you,

Seems to be a comforting lie, told by the world,

While the world knew it is wrong.



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