Amber Zitzloff Poems

Suicide, suicide wishing I were dead.
Suicide, suicide deep in my head.
Suicide, suicide cutting my wrists.
Suicide, suicide I'm so done with this.
...

As I start to feel lonely again,
I reach for an old friend.
A friend of shiny steel,
With a razors edge.
...

Roses are red, voilets are blue
blood is red, when I bleed my body turns blue.

When I cut and slice my skin,
...

I am here, though it does not feel like it.

Every time I wake, I wonder am I really here?
...

Many nights I lay in bed,
Contemplating suicide,
Wishing I were dead.
...

Cut, I crave a blade.
My path is paved.
Something sharp would surfice.
Actually, I think it would feel quite nice.
...

Rip, tear, I don't care.
Cut, slice, it feels nice.
Burn, sting emotions on a spring.
Drip, seep, hehe... cut too deep.
...

there's no place like home

that's what they say
...

I am overwhelmed with sadness as I watch you walk away.
Even though I know you’ll be there when I wake.
I feel the tears run down my face.
And the loneliness becomes my favorite place.
...

Sometimes, I want to cry.
Sometimes, I want to die.
Most times, I just ask why.
Why does it always happen this way?
...