• Possibly a letter of sorts…:
    I am the bitter, the cold dead inside,
    I no longer want to let everything lay where it may hide,
    Is no one aware?
    Of this sorrow, this despair?

    This is… in fact, a cry for help I believe,
    Why don’t I reach out, why must I concede?
    Why must I let it unravel as it will?
    For feeling… sweet feeling, for this I would kill,
    My heart is done… no more, no more,
    Though I may love still, for you I adore,
    For those of you who may read this… as this may be the last thing I write,

    I love you all truly, honestly this night, I’m afraid I might do it. Go through with it at long last,
    I don’t know what to do with it,
    My petty excuse for a life,
    For too long I have felt this way, been in this strife,
    Nothing ever has gone how I planned it,
    I cannot believe, even I don’t understand it,
    This seems like a suicide note… and perhaps maybe it is,
    These tears block my vision, these thoughts cloud my mind,
    I’m left hopeless, depressed and so blind,
    What can I do, to stop all these thoughts,
    What can be done, to subdue this darkness inside me,
    What can I say… to make you forget me?