Death's Door.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is how I feel on those really bad days. Sometimes my anxiety gives me a bad depression and this is usually what comes out of it..

Submitted: August 07, 2012

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Submitted: August 07, 2012




The world has turned away from me, it did a long time back.

The strength and the courage I seem to sorely lack. 

I look in the mirror and turn away from the image there. 

That girl in the mirror; no longer does she care. 


Death follows in my shadow, like a lost pup. 

My life is seeping away, like water draining from a cup. 

It's icy cold fingers are slowly reaching out to get me. 

It's dark eyes lingering in mine, showing me what I can already see.


Slowly, I am dying. Dying pitifully amongst my dark mind. 

All the while wondering if I was far too kind. 

I'm drowning, my thoughts are making me drown. 

No one really cares, because at me does everyone frown. 


I want to shout, I want to scream. I clutch my head in pain. 

I cuddle up in the corner of the darkest room, no longer feeling sane.

Every part of my sanity has left me, left me to rot in the night. 

My eyes shut and I whimper in agony, as the brightness leaves my sight. 


Something wet crawls tormentingly down my pale cheek. A tear. 

Something nauseous wrenches in my stomach. My painful fear. 

My lips tremble and I'm finding it hard to breathe. 

Oh, if only these excruciating thoughts would leave!


My hands grow clammy with sweat and they stick to my hair. 

How life hates me. Would it kill me if I let it dare?

Sobs racked my body and I shuddered with every cry.

Everything I've been told, everything, was a complete lie. 


My hands form into fists, clutching my hair tightly, knuckles turning white. 

I yanked at my hair, filled with anger but mostly fright. 

I want someone to find me, find me sitting here. 

But no one wants to because no one wants to get near. 


And in that dark pitiful room do I die. It feels like a ring around my neck; a noose. 

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, letting everything loose. 

When I open my eyes, I am no longer sitting in the room any more. 

I am awake elsewhere, pressed tightly against an icy door. 


So I stand up and with fearul eyes, do I read the sign. 

'Death's Door'. It reads. A perfect door. One made of simple pine. 

And so I knock, grazing my knuckles on the rough wood. 

It swings open to reveal Death there, smiling and says; "Come in if you would."


Without a moment's hesitation I step over the threshold with as much bravery as I can muster.

He lets me in and down a hall, where people stand all in a cluster.

They smile and greet me, scars and marks litter their skin. 

And then I know, that I will fit right in. 

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