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I sit in my room with a knife in my hands.
I remember what you said.
"You can't do anything right." "Why the hell where you born for?" "Sometimes I wish you where dead."
A tear slides down my cheek. I turn the music all the way up as I cut my wrists one at a time. I then take the knife and cut my neck. I lay on the floor with my pure red blood soaks into the ground. You start to pound on my door, telling me to turn the music down. I don't reply. You open the door and scream bloody murder. You run to the phone and called '911', but when they arrive, it's to late. They tell you that she is gone. You cried and cried telling my body that you were sorry. In my lifeless eyes I could see you only happy. a single tear falls as my soul goes to a better place where I'm loved, and wanted.
- by candymiller |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 02/27/2011 |
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- Title: To Be Dead or To be Alive
- Artist: candymiller
- Description: just think I'm better off dead.
- Date: 02/27/2011
- Tags: dead alife
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