As I stare at the ceiling when sitting at home
Wishing I had someone to talk to but I’m alone.
Nobody can hear me when I cry
And nobody hears my distant call.
I don’t understand what has happened to me,
Why do I feel so lost and empty?
I feel like a tool, a machine, with no soul.
There’s something missing inside for I don’t feel whole.
Will I be lonely for the rest of my life?
Will I ever have kids a house and a husband?
Shall I do the deed and pick up that knife?
Press against myself with a fine slice?
Or reflect on my health and maybe think twice?
Will there be someone to stop me and give advice?
These questions I ask but nobody can hear,
The world would remain when I disappear.
I stumble in self pity and cry my heart out,
Knowing I am not loved without any doubt.
I have heard there is nothing more pathetic than to cry for help
You either do or you don’t want to kill yourself
This makes me pathetic as well as a weirdo,
I guess it is time for me to go
I’ve disappointed my parents and that’s what hurts most.
So now its time to turn into a ghost.
However souls are ghost so I won’t be one,
The only thing I will be is gone.
p/s: I wrote this a few years back.. and each time I read it.., it freaks me out.. =/
It's weird how in the world I would think of suicide'ing'... and moreover, it sounded so cacat..eeheh.. its funny tho' and yet scaaarryy!