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Poetry
Regrets
By musiclover3425
03 March 2008

Clothes are stained

Shirt covered in red

Room smells of blood

You're losing your head

Is this what it feels like to be dead?


You can't feel your limbs

Your body went numb.

You're thankful though

That your life is soon done.


All the bad decisions

Regrets and Mistakes

They pushed you over the edge

That is all it takes.


You think of the happy times, 

Could they ever come back?

Your thought are spinning faster

What is it that you lack?


You lack wanting to live

You didn't really care

You wish you overdosed

This isn't fair.


There's no way out now.

Can't save your own life.

No way to see if it's worth it.

It could've worked. It might.


You try and open your eyes,

It was no use.

There's no turning back now

Consciousness you're starting to lose.


You wish you had said goodbye.

All those things you didn't say.

"It wasn't worth it.

I want to live another day."


It's dark and black,

There's no coming back

It's the end

Goodbye my friend.



Clothes are stained

Shirt covered in red

Room smells of blood

You're losing your head

Is this what it feels like to be dead?


You can't feel your limbs

Your body went numb.

You're thankful though

That your life is soon done.


All the bad decisions

Regrets and Mistakes

They pushed you over the edge

That is all it takes.


You think of the happy times, 

Could they ever come back?

Your thought are spinning faster

What is it that you lack?


You lack wanting to live

You didn't really care

You wish you overdosed

This isn't fair.


There's no way out now.

Can't save your own life.

No way to see if it's worth it.

It could've worked. It might.


You try and open your eyes,

It was no use.

There's no turning back now

Consciousness you're starting to lose.


You wish you had said goodbye.

All those things you didn't say.

"It wasn't worth it.

I want to live another day."


It's dark and black,

There's no coming back

It's the end

Goodbye my friend.

Reviews

Written by Phil (6959 comments posted) 3rd March 2008
I normally detest poems about suicide. At least here you manage to stay relatively detached and don't revel in the whole woe-is-me-no-one's-ever-suffered-before-teen-spirit thing. A very jaunty rhythm (that tripped in places) that perhaps didn't suit the material. Some odd constructions to fit the rhyme/rhythm. 
 
Phil

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