I’m sorry to whoever may read this. I didn’t realize I couldn’t delete this anymore. I’m really sorry, I just wrote this down so the words wouldn’t stay caged and wreak more havoc inside.
Trigger Warning: Talks about self-imposed death
I
If the blade kisses my veins hard tonight, tell it, tell it the kiss was a welcome sweetness,
And if a raging truck separates the bones from my skin, that I apologize for the crimson wetness,
Should poison fill my insides and turn my lips black, tell it I think the color looks good on me,
If a noose hugs my neck, gently unravel the ropes from the embrace and tell it the burn is pretty.
II
By lead and gunpowder, too much water in my lungs,
It may be quiet, it may be loud, some joyful noise from the darkest songs I’ve sang.
Tell them, won’t you please tell them that they did me well?
Tell them that they were kind, by them I broke sorrow’s spell.
III
Something broke, you see, I no longer have the strength to fix it,
So won’t you please tell them for me, it was always gonna be too late.
In this deafening silence and raging madness, in this life no longer lived;
All other acts are moot and ever so pointless, we could no longer be saved.