Macabre

Do you ever just want to stop living?

Like you wake up in the morning,

You look in that wall of reflective glass,

And see nothing but a pale face.

White as a ghost

With nothing but anguish and nostalgia pouring into your body

And replacing what’s left of the hope and love.

There’s no more joy inside of you.

It’s like happiness never even existed.

No one to support you when you break down

And no one to stay up with you speaking words of beauty.

There’s just nothing left inside.

You’re just an empty soul in a false body.

All you do is want to die.

Maybe you don’t want to kill yourself

Because maybe you’d hurt more people.

Maybe you just want to stop the pain and darkness that’s growing inside of you.

But none of that matters anymore.

If you get hit by a bus, then you get hit by a bus.

It’s not like you checked both ways before crossing the street.

It’s just that you were walking in the crosswalk when the light turned green,

And the impact of the speeding bus hit you so bad that your brain stopped the minute you hit the ground.

If you walk off a building, then you walk of a building.

It’s not like you purposely fell.

It’s just that someone told you were an angel,

And angels are meant to fly.

But when you took that leap the only thing that happened to you was the downfall of gravity.

If you get shot in the head, you get shot in the head.

It’s not like someone was holding you at gunpoint.

It’s just that you pulled the trigger before you remembered the gun was loaded.

So the bullet went through your head by mistake and death was just too sudden to change it.

If you hang yourself, you hang yourself.

It’s not like someone whipped a noose around you neck and pulled it tight enough that your lungs couldn’t breathe.

It’s just that you were standing on a chair

And you saw that rope hanging there all by itself.

You wanted to see if it could support you without breaking,

And it did better than anyone ever has.

If you didn’t wake up in the morning, then you just didn’t wake up.

It’s not your fault you accidently took more pills than you were supposed to.

It’s just that you were sleep deprived

And you thought that maybe by taking them,

You’d feel better in the morning.

If you stab yourself, then you stab yourself.

It’s not like you meant to stab your heart.

It’s just that you weren’t sure if the knife was dull,

And so you took it to your chest

And poked it in your heart.

It didn’t really hurt,

But you bled out so much that you couldn’t stop it from leaking out of you.

No one purposely dies.

It’s not like anyone wants to.

It’s just that we can’t take anymore pain

And there’s no way to stop it from growing more and more.