It Hurts To Live

The cold steel in my hands,
Shinny and black.
The resistance of the trigger,
It’s all so familiar,
In the war against my self.
Warm wet tears,
Run down my face,
As I pull it away,
Once again.
Shock in a friends face,
As I tell him what I almost did,
He holds me in his arms,
And asks me why.
I can’t explain,
All I do is cry.
The soft plastic,
Shining metal,
Pointed end,
Breaks the skin.
I drag it downwards,
Blood floods to cover my wound,
I just wipe it away,
Unaffected.
My friend walks in,
Shock upon his face.
I’m unsure why,
He cares so much.
He grabs a towel,
To cover my wound,
He holds me tight,
Asking me why.
The blood doesn’t stop,
Because I cut too deep.
He carries me to the car,
And drives me to the doctor.
They just frown,
And shake their heads.
I won’t say why I don’t want to live.
My friend stays with me the whole time,
I don’t understand why he cares so much.
They tell me I need counseling,
And I shouldn’t be thinking this way,
But I don’t go,
I know what I need.
The cold steel resists to my finger,
And I taste oil in my mouth.
My friend walks in,
As the trigger stops resisting,
My eyes say I’m sorry,
As the bullet goes through my head.
I wrote him a letter,
Telling him I’m sorry,
And I love him.
But the pain I felt inside was too great,
It just hurts too much to live my life.
He cries at my funeral,
Places a pink rose upon my coffin,
He’ll miss me, I know.
“I’ll never forget you,” he whispers,
“I’ll help others like you,
You won’t go unknown.”