Why do people romanticise sadness like it’s beautiful
To be broken? What’s so beautiful about sitting in smelly
Clothes crying for hours and hours? What’s so beautiful
About swallowing too many pills and vomiting
Up pain? When they find the body they’ll cry,
And wonder why you wanted to die -
They’ll wonder what the hell they did wrong,
What they didn’t do to stop it –
They’ll fall into depression,
Or turn to drugs,
They’ll stop living their lives
And the gap you left when you chose to die
Will never close -
Razor blades and knives
Leave cuts and scars and horrible reminders
Of nights when you were close to death -
Reminders of battles fought and lost –
That you were a survivor. But the scars aren’t beautiful
Or romantic – they are ugly,
And no one will love you for them.
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