Confessions Poem by Melissa Robinson

These words are torn from the mind of the hopeless-
Far to fragile to be spoken; repressed to self-destruction in motion.
For their own sake I will insist I'm not broken
as i alter each thought with methamphetamines narcotic potions.

Terror reeks havoc every night in my dreams;
My veins are the canvas, image them as they bleed.
I keep my demons alive, for off my sorrow they feed-
and my past repeats in my head as if in black and white scenes.

I draw ice from my pipe- recall his grip, fearsomely tight,
Then my world shatters around me; I must stay, I must fight.
Each days darkest hour, each sullen night's cries-
Self-Infliction of pain is the only way I know I'm alive.

Since my earliest of years I have craved suicide-
images of nooses and razors infect the back of my mind.
So don't mourn for me, love, when I choose to die,
each day on this earth amounts merely of much wasted time.