Just Make It Stop

The Voices Are Stronger Than My Vow To Stay Strong.

I sat all alone, in the dark corner of my room.
My razor blade on the lying on my hard wood floor.
And my door is locked.
No one can hear me now.
They couldn't hear my silent screams anyway.
Cold tears rushing down my ugly little face.
No one cares, that's why they bullied me.
That's why, they don't care, they don't care if I cry.
They don't care if I die.
Dark red blood gushing from my wrist, onto the floor.
Sorry mom, you'll have to clean that up.
After you find the note I just wrote and read over and over again, crying harder each time,
Yeah you'll have to clean up my mess, after I die.
And you'll find me, with those tears running down my face,
with the razor blade in hand,
you'll have to find my cold body, dead.

Author's Note

horror, selfharm, death, Emo, depression, triggering