Suicide

I remember,
 the days of suicide, 
Feeling like,
 I was never alive. 
All those times,
 I tried to kill myself,
Without a thought,
 for no one else.
Waking up every day,
 feeling worthless,
with nothing to live for, 
with that voice screaming,
 what are you even here for.
Always imagining,
 my own funeral, 
hoping someday,
 I could break free,
 from it all. 
Wishing every day,
 that,
I could be dead,
anything to switch that voice off,
inside my head. 
Just another trip down a&e, 
that wasn't the place,
 I wanted to be.
I wanted to be gone,
 and never wake up, 
not patched up,
 and sent back off. 
What a stupid cunt,
 I always felt, 
however I tried,
 I can't kill myself.
If only I knew then,
what I know now,
Then I would have,
soon dissolved that spell,
And see what’s beneath,
 this shell called hell.
not the one that lies,
in the physical, 
that seems irrelevant,
now I’m aware,
 of the spiritual
Now I know,
 that when,
you die,
a force in you,
 makes you alive .
I wake up every day,
 counting my blessings,
and look forward,
 to my psychedelic sessions. 
You know those things,
 that are illegal,
and show us deep inside,
we are good people. 
That voice that I hated,
 inside of my head, 
you know the one,
that wished me dead,
he's had a total,
 change of heart,
and all he says is,
 it’s just the start.
A chance to channel,
 all my healing, 
and let you know,
 how I was feeling.
A chance to clear away,
 all my lies, 
and live in awe,
of my third eye.

World Wide Wez