PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Gritting your teeth, as you feel sick to your stomach. Sweat pouring from your forehead, your eyes darting from side to side. You feel a longing that you know the cure for. You leave your house, and walk to the place you have gone many times before. The danger you once felt means nothing now. You dig in your pockets, then count your money. You buy your death for a low price.

  

      Back at your dark and dingy room, you light the lighter. Melting the death to liquid, smelling the all too familiar smell as it assaults your nostrils.

    

    Grab your belt; tie it tight around your beaten arm. Watch the veins rise to the surface, biting your lip. You put your fear of needles to rest, and continue. You push it in, depressing the plunger, as you feel your veins coursing with a strange feeling. Your pupils dilate, and then the room becomes fuzzy. You pull it out, letting the belt loose. The world around you becomes darker; you are comfortable and completely numb.

    

    The breath in your lungs becomes shorter. You have taken too much; you can’t stop what is happening. You become scared, start praying to your god to save you. Repeating over and over, how you will never do it again if you can just live through this.

    

    But, your pleas fall on deaf ears, ignored because you had promised the same things last time, and the time before.

  

   Your life slowly slips away, beyond anyone grasp. You blink your eyes, catching a glimpse of your best friend entering your room. The one, who stuck by you through everything, the one who you had promised you would stop. She stares at you screaming for you to come back, saying how you cant leave her. But, all you can manage is tears and “I'm sorry”