The room is brightly lit, But her heart, the darkest black With razor blade in hand, Tearfully, she thinks back So many times she's wished That things were like they used to be But she can see how happy he is Now that he is free So many nights she's lain awake Doing nothing except to cry She's tired of crying, so now she knows It is time for her to die J. C. 1994

#poetry #triggerwarning
#suicidalideation #heartbreak #lovelost #luckily #myfirstpoem #apoetisborn #babyartist #babypoet

I remembered! The first poem I ever wrote. I was 15, so it was 1994. I had just suffered my first major heartbreak, and I was hurting so bad I wanted to die. 🧵 1/2