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(The graves in my mind)

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She is dead

She is dead
My beauty and happiness is dead
I forget the world and anything I said

She swings
In her beautiful white dress, from the tree she swings
God took her, crushed her and snapped her angel wings

She’s in blood
She lays there suffocated and covered in her own blood
The thing that killed was the hatred and love

She has a gun
The world is at her feet but against her head is a gun
She will die and never again see the sun

She is burnt in the fire
She wanted to burn her existence of this earth so she set herself on fire
She told everyone she wanted to die and they all called her a liar

She has pills
She had a hundred bottles,50 in each and she took all the pills
She soon discovered that an overdose kills

I will be dead
After she died all I need is to be dead
So take the pills, slit my wrist, tie the noose, burn the tree and put a gun to my head

Submitted: Sunday, May 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013


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Comments about this poem (Confused Depression by Suicidal Happiness )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (5/19/2013 7:19:00 PM)

    beautiful and lovely, thanks.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment.

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