Living Hell Poem by Dylan Dawe

Suicide is a horrible thing.
Death: a harsh and gruelling king.
Everything is in his control,
Strings of your life, pulled: like a doll.

He drags you down to the pits of hell.
To the world around you all is well.
While he makes you suffer deep inside,
He uses all that you have to hide.

He knows your weaknesses inside out;
A powerful weapon for inflicting doubt.
He makes his way into your head
Til you reach the point you'd rather be dead.

The final step you need to take,
Convinced it would not be a mistake.

These feelings I experience every day.
The memories that just wont go away.
Every time I open my eyes
I cant help but remember the lies.

As the tears flow down my cheek,
I realise I've become so weak.
My heart lies shattered on the ground,
The essence of heartache all around.

All this contained in my bodily cell
My own private living hell.