Fake smile, dried eyes. Scratched wrists, bruised thighs. White pills, rope tied. Gun loaded this is what I think about when trying to commit suicide.

How do you kill the Daemon inside of you without killing yourself.

You look at the clock waiting to die. Why are you waiting you've already died inside.

I keep getting flashbacks of things I don't want to remember.

Am I a waste that's taking up this worlds space.

Time waits for no one. They say that but, everyday it seems like time waits so I can feel sorry for myself more often than normal.

It may take years, maybe a day. But fate will always find its way.

When minutes feel like hours and hours feel like days. Days feels like months. I'm fading away.

Time is like sadness. It lasts a long time.

Every thought is a battle,
Every breath is a war,
Only time will tell if I'm winning anymore.

If time has taught me one thing it's that take every chance you get. Take the razor on your table before you start regretting not listening to me.

Over time I learned don't tell your problems to anyone eighty percent don't care and twenty percent is glad you got them.

I'll be alright one day. Not today. But maybe someday.

I can't tell time. I have proof I can't remember how many times I failed to commit suicide.

Is this just a flashback. Are you really alive. Maybe you stayed strong maybe you didn't.

Waiting burns my skin like acid. I want my day to come.