I’m Not Suicidal, But…

It’s no longer a blackness, it’s now a fire
My belly feels like an unending pit
I’m not sure if it’s anger, frustration or the depression
Last night I went to bed but couldn’t go to sleep
When my eyes finally shut, I hoped they wouldn’t open again
This is not poetry, it’s emotions
Maybe I’ve perfected the art of hiding this off
Maybe you wouldn’t believe some days I wake up and want to die
Would you believe me if I told you last night, I stopped just in front of a speeding car but somehow the driver hit the breaks before he hit me?
Would you believe me if I told you I had my bath with scalding water this morning but my skin wouldn’t fall off?
I have become an empty doll despite my supposed happiness
I’m in pharmacology class and the topic is something about antidepressants
Maybe those would cheer me up
I really think my only refuge would be going to sleep and not waking up
Everyday I pour my heart down on scripts
And lie that its poetry
And you call me cute, and think I’m good
This is not poetry, it’s emotions
I’m really screaming out
I really need help
Ngisize

2 thoughts on “I’m Not Suicidal, But…

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