It was as I thought; if I went back to work, I would be inundated with a review of topics that I probably wrote about in the past, but now I'm 10-15 years older, and I might possibly have a new perspective. Well, actually I have the same perspective, I just write a little different.

Suicidal

Nineteen years old
With suicidal ideation,
After seven years
Of self-induced degradation,
Popping pills and whatnot
In the name of “I hate me“,
Abusing all who care
I'll drag them down, just wait and see.

Nineteen years old
Whining, wailing, look at me,
Don't you know I was abused
And now my life is misery,
I'll keep trying to kill myself
Because, you know, I want to die,
As soon as I leave your care
I guarantee, another try.

Nineteen years old
What a waste, I say,
I'll care for you tonight
But tomorrow is another day,
Where you'll get the opportunity
To look your sorry self in the eye,
But tonight I'm going to tell you
You're just too weak to die.

Nineteen years old
And you've wasted seven years,
Nobody gives a crap
About your story of abuse and fears,
Your life is really easy
No working, school or tasks,
You just lay around and whistle
Through all of your phony masks.

Nineteen year old persons
I've seen paralyzed and more,
They didn't wallow in their misery
They were wheeling out the door,
With active minds and iron wills
They weren't whining, oh, poor me,
They weren't dreaming about their suicide
On Wednesday, at three-forty-three.

Nineteen years old
You need to begin the day and say,
Whatever happened to me before
Is ancient history and just the old way,
I have one choice, about moving forward
Each day is a fresh new start,
Those who care about me will do so
No matter if I depart,
But they are locking their doors
Watching to see where I will head,
Will I choose to be alive and live again
Or take the easy way out, and be dead.

Fibril_late;
3/16/08