On the days you know all the beauty and art in the world,
is not going to save you.
You spent your money on expensive drinks and creamy food,
with life seeping out of your fingertips.
And strangers wondering if you're okay... If you ever will be.
If these friends distract you forever,
Or not at all.
You see, there are just too many people, too many moments.
and too many times you need to talk, when you really don't want to.
And if one more person ask you, "Are you okay?",
You swear you won't be.
No matter how many times you pull at this door
It still won't open,
Because right in front of your blinded eyes, in bold letters,
It says "push".
You think once you are gone, "Will they talk fondly of you?".
Of how generous you were, how you had all the potential in the world.
Will they conclude, it was love or money that killed you.
Or whether it was the black hole in you chest that finally consumed you.
Will they know of the poems stashed under the ash trays.
Or the songs you planned to sing,
Or the art you meant to create.
On the days you know all the beauty and art in the world is not going to save you.
You want to rip out this chest and throw away your heart too.
But stop.
Couse someone, somewhere feels the same truth.
So this monster kill another person every 40 seconds,
It can easily consume her too.
And even though she thinks
No one and nothing can save her,
I still have to try, will you?
