Suicide BeatA Poem by Hell in a Hip FlaskInspired by 'Suicidal Thoughts'I sit inside my four walls, blasting Biggie Smalls, suicidal thoughts with the beat that crawls. It’s playing as my fingers tap the keys, and when he’s spraying, feels like he speaks to me. Although I can’t feel the pain behind the verse, never had to kill or rob my mama’s purse. I can feel the fatigue in every single bar, that tired drone a depressed man’s
scar. I’m always sleep deprived, half-awake, half alive asking myself whether I should create or survive. For sure, I’d be happy if I played in the park, but my mind’s only alight when I write in the dark. But stay there too long and the song will infest you. Burrow itself inside your soul and do its best to best you. It will haunt your thoughts and try to deceive ya, it made Biggie make the call then drop the receiver. One hand on his only friend, the other on a gun, his hand rock steady but mind’s on the run. His life blurs, destroys his memories, clouds up his mind, so it’s only pain his brain receives.
BANG He hits the floor twitching, another life falls away in the bloody floors of a kitchen"f**k… And I’m scared man trust me, I don’t wanna take the fall. But what scares me more to be honest, is I got no one to call © 2017 Hell in a Hip FlaskAuthor's Note
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Added on January 27, 2017Last Updated on January 30, 2017 Tags: suicide, depression, anger, friends, desperation, guns AuthorHell in a Hip FlaskMoscow, IDAboutI’m a new writer, I enjoy writing short essays, but would love feedback on anything and everything. Don’t be afraid to tear into my work, it will be appreciated more..Writing
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