I fall to the ground,
and cry out for help,
doesn't anyone hear me?

The pills in my hand,
I want to take them,
I want to end my life.

Cutting didn't help,
but maybe, just maybe,
the pills in my hand will.

The pills in my hand,
I am about to do it,
I'm going to end it,
right here, right now.

The pills in my hand,
fall to the ground,
as I sake in my weeping.

The pills in my hand,
are now just merely a thought,
why shouldn't I do it,
I have nothing to live for anyway.

The pills in my hand,
The scares on my arm,
The scares on my wrist,
The scares on my leg, 
The scares on my hand,
The scares on my heart.

Are all merely reminders,
reminders that I wish weren't there,
but they are there for a reason,
what reason, I do not know,
but I am learning to live with them.

The pain is not as bad,
but it is still there,
the pain that caused me to cut, 
the pain that made me want to take those pills,
the pain that was so bad, I wanted to die.

Today I see that I have so much,
so much more to live for,
so many that love me,
so many that need me. 


(c) March 2010