I can only hope that someone reads this,
Or that eyes flick over this, on that long list,
Of poems.
I wish to get my point across,
About the feeling of loss,
Of someone you love
Thae feeling of empytiness, sitting in your chest,
Or being suffocated, and pressed,
Against a wall,
A wall of self sabotage,
A home filled of dread, fear, and loss, turning into a cage,
That only you, yourself, and only you have made.
The bars, your restriction of people trying to help,
The roof, your way of sheilding yourself from pain that only someone above you can make you feel,
And the lock, is your grim determination to make yourself pay for something onlythe Angel of Death did, and not you.
You could not stop it, there was nothing you could do.
Their soul slipped threw your fingers, a slippery edge of life.
You did not cut the thread
Of life, so do not hurt yourself, or fill yourself of dread,
Of thoughts of you could've done,
What is done, is done.
And you will live,
To see the sun

RATE THIS CHAPTER!