Pain

Maybe I'll get lucky and drink myself to an early

grave.

No one can miss what they don't care about, right?

Precisely.

Why must I continue to stay when every moment I breathe is hell on 

Earth?

They claim they would, with comforting tones and actions, but I'm no fool to

lies. 

I'm sick, full, exploding with them, how could they do this to me? I used to

Care...

This quickly faded with age as I grew to believe tainted words and phrases.

Poison.

They fed me, hoping for it to be enough. I've wanted it to be for a while, but it's not.

Failure

Describes my very essence here, and I long for it, everything, to stop.

Finish.

I should claim it, make it mine. Who is to say I can't control death?

Peace.

Author's Note

Opinions? Anything is appreciated.

Reviews

[Ashley]

I feel the same way sadly and think about the same exact things you say in every line. Very good job.

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid read and write...:).......................