We are the broken, hurt, lost and dead the demons live inside our head and we assume we're better off dead so brake us, hit us, push us down you only make the emptiness grow make the numbness spread make the blades in our hands press to deep do you regret killing us? With your hurtful words.
“sticks and stones may brake my bones but words may never hurt me" We've read this saying a million times heard it every time we would reach for help as we cried. Yet you smile and say our happiness is a decision. Yet you act as if we want to feel this way! Of course we don't! It fucking hurts! We just want it to stop we didn't want to die! We just wanted it to fade and suicide felt like the only way... It's not like we didn't reach for help... Because we did... And you just... You just... Pushed us away...
R