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I lay here, listening to the voices that are

Telling me not to do it; not to commit suicide.

I try to ignore it as I try to sleep-

But I cannot-I'm engulfed in the wrath

Of the prescious but known suicidal fate;

I feel suicide calling me- calling me forth

To the greater depths of my wrath. Somehow

The voices fade as they have their own

Troubles they need to worry about. My suicidal

Thoughts get even worse-The cutting starts

Up again. It's uncontrollable. The only way

I express how I feel is through pain and blood-

Nothing else. I decide that razors would work

Perfect for killing my life-I knew my friends

Would miss me, but knew my family wouldn't.

They just don't understand I'm Bipolar-

They just don't understand anything I do.

I'm living my life a lie-nothing more.

Lies-that's all I believe people are

Telling me. Nothing but selfish lies.

Since they're lying to me-I continue

My downward spiral to suicide. I

Feel like my life ain't worth it and that I

Just need to go to hell and die forever.

My friends are the only ones I can

Truly trust to be there for me-this

Even includes Ricky, my b/f, but that's all.

I'm dying

In this wrath

In the end

It will be

My suicide.