There is nothing that can cure my sadness.
I ache with all this pain.
There is nothing I can gain.
Just really cold salty tears.
Death is what I fear.
They call me suicidal.
But I’m a living result.
So how can this be?
All they want is for me to be happy.
But inside I am such a monster crawling.
Trying to get free – screaming.
“Someone please help me from this trauma!”
I need a hug from someone I can trust
Instead of this hard, pity, and rust.
Feeling empty inside.
I am known to hide.
My depressive state on my face.
I start to feel my heart speed its’ pace.
My veins all full of hate.
My heart begins to break.
My body re-actively shakes.
Really, now I cannot fake.
This erupting Earthquake.
This vicious cycle,
In which I partake.
Around, around, and around again.
This is when the curtain falls.
And my inner being is faced.
No reaction, just smiles and applause.
For accepting my quirks and flaws.
Not judging but pleased by my true self.
Never again am I a doll on a shelf.
I wrote this poem when I had to be admitted into a Treatment Center in November 2013. I was suicidal for 5 years. I was getting help for my suicidal thoughts. This November 27, 2016, I will have completed 3 years of not being suicidal anymore!!! God works and heals our hearts. Prayer is the key.