Just sitting here wishing I were
somebody else, wishing I was
more like her, more
desirable.
Just lying here wishing I were
dead, wishing I was
with God where I won’t
hurt anymore.

Just rotting here wishing I were more
mortal, wishing it was
easier to die, so that I could be
free of this torture.
Just screaming here with my
heart on fire, my
mind in a torrent of
chaos,
trying to numb out the
pain with more
humanly things.
What I would do to have a
knife right now.

Just looking at your picture wishing you were
all mine, and
not hers.
Wishing I could be
loved.
Just lying here as my body
spasms, as if throwing a
temper tantrum;
but really trying to block out the
horrid thoughts
running through my mind.

Just eating my heart out with these
words running through my heart, my
soul, my
very being.
I know they will end me.
I know I’ll have to accept this.
So why is it
so damn hard?