I never said my words were beautiful.


2. the note

They asked where I was yesterday.
"Home" is an easy reply.
But what made me have a nervous face
was the question, "Why?"

And I don't trust anyone to say.
Only one person needs to know.
Because what happened yesterday
involves me and a suicide note.

Not you. Not them. Not anyone else.
Just me. Just I. Just myself.
However, the same mentality has put me here in the first place.
My heart runs at a fast pace.

And as the day marched on and the faces passed.
I found myself stuck in the nearest past.
Drowning in the sorrows
Hoping for tomorrow.

All because of a note, I wrote.
With the hope that I could choke
my fears, the cheers
from the demons that come near
As soon as I'm alone
At "home"

My friend, if you'd call her that.
Speaks lowly to me like a dog
Saying I should of been here, to have her back
But I was too busy being a "lump on a log"

Because I was lazy, she says.
I was tired, she claims.
Not knowing I could of been dead
Not knowing about the body that could've hanged.

But yesterday, all alone
When I knew texting her on the phone
was useless because I would be a bother
even if my depression couldn't of hit me harder

I guess these thoughts sink in again.
As they shall, I suppose.
My sister says I need to make better friends.
One that really knows
About the note.

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