The blood drips from my wrist,
In a dream I thought was real.
Some say that I'll get better,
But I think my fate has a seal.
I'm afraid to find myself help,
too scared to say it out loud,
last week I tried to kill myself,
of that I am not proud.
The voices in my head say I'm weak,
an old teacher said I was strong,
if I don't get help soon,
my death, it won't be long.
The bullies called me a loser,
my friends say I am cool,
I fail at so many things,
I'm scared I'll fail school.
To me I am the loser,
To me I am weak,
I need to get myself some help,
but I'm too afraid to speak.
So reader of this poem,
I know you'll worry now,
people say that I'm self centered,
people say that I'm a cow.
But people don't know,
What you do,
they are so blind,
They wouldn't have a clue.
So if you can,
could you try,
to help me get the help I need,
cause we both know no one really wants to die.
 
Copyright © khat, All Rights Reserved