Whimsy The Reaper's Grip Poem by Melissa Robinson

Listen to me as I say-
Im sorry, my pain is far to profound.
The scars etched deeply upon my arms veins
reflect a misery so deep that i could drown.

I drop to my knees, and in sorrow i pray-
Lord, diminish the despair in which i am bound.
Give me hope in a world in which i wish not to stay-
Let someone hear my cries, though their ears fall deaf to the sound.

To allow my agony to show is not the way i was raised;
why must i need someones help- i wish i could do this on my own.
I long for a sincere bliss, allow my anguish to decay,
and i whimsy true love to the point it aches in my bones.

I remain confined by the past, i was traumatized..Afraid.
I flail at memories like nightmares as i carve the aftermath in my wrist.
Is it worth it to hold on- to live like this everyday.?
I know if i end my life now I will be so terribly missed.

The sake of others is all that allows my death's delay-
To alter my contemplations I reach out for a glass pipe's kiss.
This must come to an end- desperately, I seek an escape;
Why must innocent lives have to pass..when i wish not to exist.? ?