#25.03.2016

[thoughts-of-a-dying-poet]

It's my fault

I’m broken what a mess I’m in pieces made of stress

I know I am the one to blame for all this pain for what I became

What a shame scars and tears the light won’t save me from my own fears

It’s my fault I’m so sorry wish me dead that’s my story

Just forget my face exists while I hope to escape through my open wrists

It would be much easier if I was not real as I still breathe my pain I’ll conceal

How can I hold on? will I ever start living? should I just be gone? or should I start believing?

[thoughts-of-a-dying-poet]

Optimism

One day you’ll be fine again Please, trust me and fight this pain Times like this make life seem hopeless I know, but hope will egress Meaning there’s always a chance It gets better at a glance So, please, don’t give up the fight Make-believe you’ll be alright