Sitting beside the window still looking into the sky,
Sometimes I wish the blade was beside me so I could die,
And those futuristic ways,
Everyone is a suicidal play,
But I'm not fake I'm not a flaw,
Across my skin the blade withdraws,
Rising up from beneath the dirt,
For a real soul I need to search,
And these wings made of silver will begin to rust,
I've tried so hard but my metal is dust,
Sometimes I cry to pass by these horrid days,
But even then sometimes I wish I would've stayed,
Those terrifying images and the weary voices,
Have taken away my straight thoughts & choices,
So I pray on my knees,
Wishing for god to see,
Even though I have decieved him,
I will now release him,
From pressure withheld in my spirit,
And my wish I hope he will hear it,
Tonight I thought nine times of how long I cried,
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish upona wishing suicide. |
