I can't die as I'm already dead.
I can't control the thoughts that go through my head.

I don't scream as blood runs down my arm.
I'm too used to the self harm.

I don't care what people say.
It's the same everyday.

I go back to the same spot in my bed.
I go back to the dark places in my head.

Wow that poem got dark, cold and depressing 😳😶