I know that thoughts of suicide
come only once you’re dead inside,
after you’ve tried and tried and tried
and you have nothing left to give.
Because I have been where you are:
beaten, drained, broken, marred.
More than once, I’ve been scarred
by pain I struggled to outlive.
But you can’t sense my empathy,
and though you look, you cannot see
how your pain cuts into me
and drains my will to live.
I feel Death, He lingers near,
strikes me down filled with fear,
this time it’s you who’ve brought Him here,
with dark thoughts I must forgive.
Now look at me and promise never,
or we can do this thing together.
Tonight we could end forever
lives lost to a bloody shiv.