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  • Empathy


    Here I sit with a gun to my head,
    I'm wondering how long til i pull to be dead.
    The wall colored in red
    with the blood that I've shed.
    I know that this would be the end.

    Why do I continuously look bad upon myself,
    when I have good health,
    and much more wealth
    than plenty of people to the south.

    I look so negative at my own life,
    jus because I'm yet to find a wife.
    Yelling this shit is keif,
    when I slit with the knife.

    Now I sit here and I stall,
    wondering how far I will fall,
    when the bullet penetrates the skull.

    I'm a pussy for backin out now.
    Today I vow,
    I've taken my last bow,
    now is the time to find out how.

    My thoughts don't stop at all,
    time to look at the wall,
    and end it now. Once and for ----

    [ Note : This is the first poem I remember ever writing (approx April 2004).

    It is called empathy because it is how I imagined I would feel.. seeing negativity surrounding me at the time. It is not about anyone

    In my opinion suicide just transfers your pain to your loved ones that miss you.. rather than removes it..

    A good friend would rather help you now, than find out what happened after the fact..
    If you don't feel like you have one, I am here for you friends. <3 ]

  • #2
    I am sorry - I don't know why this was hung up for approval. This happens sometimes - great post!


    • #3
      Good god... you were very candid with your feelings at the time with that one and not even I can do it, yet I've written many dark and disturbing pieces myself and posted them here with confidence.

      But yes, great entry 👍